Easy Target
by smuffly
Summary: Someone is targeting our favourite lab rat. Who would do such a thing,and how can his friends protect him?
1. Chapter 1

**EASY TARGET**

Because there aren't enough Adam fics in the world!

**Author's note:** This is my first fanfic so please let me know what you think, and whether you would like to read more. I have some of it written already – the problem is going to be my computer, which is currently having a nervous breakdown! So I'll update as quickly as I can. Please bear with me….

**Disclaimer:** Don't I just wish I owned Adam…..

CHAPTER ONE

It was a simple phone message that gave Jo her first warning. She was trying to tidy her desk at the time, whisking papers around in the desperate hope that they would fall into some kind of order. When her mobile beeped, she yanked it out of her pocket with relief, hoping for something – anything – that would pull her away from her least favourite task.

What she got was a nasty shock.

The message seemed innocuous at first. Accidental, even. It contained a short video clip, shot from someone else's phone, of a carriage on the subway. Jo watched curiously as the camera's eye moved through the weary rush hour crowds, none of whom seemed to notice that they were being filmed. Suddenly she stiffened, as she saw a face that she knew all too well. The video cut out at this precise moment, and two words took its place.

"_Easy target."_

Jo went cold.

Gripping the phone tightly, she ran from the room and down the corridor, searching through every glass partition until she found what she was looking for. Scruffy chestnut curls, bent low in concentration over a trio of computer screens. Adam was so intent upon his task that he did not even notice her until she was right beside him. Then he looked up, flashing her that infectious shy smile of his. "Hey, Jo. What can I do for you?"

For once, Jo did not return the smile.

"Adam. Did you ride the subway today?"

"Today?" The lab tech looked puzzled. "No. Yesterday, I guess. My car broke down. Two flat tires – can you believe it? How did you know? I wasn't late or anything – at least, I don't think I was. Am I in trouble?" The old familiar worry lines, always too quick to appear, creased his brow. Jo laid her hand on his arm, wanting to reassure him but uncertain how to continue.

"Not with me," she told him, shaking her head.

"Then with someone else? Oh God – is it Mac? What did I do this time?" Adam paused the program he was running and turned to give her his whole attention. "I don't _remember_ making a mistake…."

"Adam. Stop. You haven't done anything wrong." Jo sighed and held out her phone. "I suppose the only thing I can do is show you. Look at the message and tell me if this was yesterday."

"Wh-what?"

Warily, Adam focussed his gaze on the video clip as it ran. There was the subway carriage, filled with strangers – and yet, they all seemed vaguely familiar somehow, like characters in a dream. There was his own face, tiny and oblivious, as he bobbed in time to an unknown beat on his i-pod. And there was the message, stark and sickening, in red on an empty white background.

"_Easy target."_

Adam's world contracted and a fist began to hammer in his chest. He gripped the table edge behind him, out of sight. "Yes," he said in the calmest voice that he could muster, as if this sort of thing happened all the time and was nothing to freak out about. _Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Man up, Ross…._ "That was yesterday. On the way home. Jo, what's going on? Who sent that?"

"Right now, I don't know. But don't panic," she told him belatedly. "You're here, and you're safe. It may not even be a real threat, after all. Take my phone and see if you can find out who sent the video."

"O-okay. And you'll be…?"

"I'll be getting Mac."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" muttered Adam, as the dark-haired woman swept out of the lab. On reflection, though, he decided that it did. Mac had a powerful presence that was hard to ignore – whichever side of it you happened to fall upon. Trouble was, Adam had a persistent, nagging phobia of falling on the wrong side. Echoes of a past that simply would not fade away, no matter how hard he tried to escape from them. His respect for Mac was immense, and that made things ten times worse. The observant Jo, of course, had noticed his problem immediately but that didn't help either, as her approach always seemed to be to push him at the boss head on. Psychology 101. Face your fears, Adam. _Man up…._

The elevator doors slid open and Mac stepped out, straight into Jo's line of sight. She collared him at once, almost spilling his coffee, and began to speak in rapid undertones, gesturing urgently. As she did so, Mac sent his piercing gaze back through the glass towards Adam, who instantly tried to pretend (unconvincingly) that he hadn't been spying on them both. Blushing, he set to work on the task that Jo had given him. When they came up behind him, he sighed in frustration. "Burn phone," he told them. "Impossible to trace. Especially as they seem to have turned it off." He shook his head unhappily. "I don't remember… I should have noticed… Why didn't I see that someone was filming me?"

"Why would you?" Mac's voice was gruff, as always, but his face radiated concern. "What _would_ you have seen? Only someone with a mobile phone, passing time on their journey. That describes just about everyone on the subway these days. The point that should really concern us right now is, _why_ were they filming you?"

"And why did they send the message to me?" added Jo with a grimace.

Adam lowered his head, uncomfortable under their scrutiny. The hammering was in his ears now, loud and fierce. "I guess… I guess… It must be some kind of a warning." He didn't like to follow where this thought was going, and nobody else finished it for him. Instead, Mac laid a hand upon his shoulder.

"Tonight you stay here," he told the young man. "You can sleep on the couch in my office."

Jo almost burst out laughing when she saw the look of unreasoning terror that flitted across the lab tech's face, and how he tried to cover it at once with a mask of gratitude.

"Oh. No. Really, boss, that's ok, you don't have to. I mean, that's your office, and I… Anyway, I have my car here today. I only took the subway that one time, on account of the two flat tires…."

Adam's panicked babble trailed off as a nasty little thought snuck into his mind. "Oh, God. You don't suppose…."

"How did they know you'd be on the subway?" reasoned Mac grimly. "Because they disabled your car. And if they can do that once…."

"They can do it again," whispered Adam.

"It also means they know where you live," added Jo.

Mac nodded. "Besides, your experience of car parks lately hasn't been exactly stellar."

Adam winced. No need to bring that up. Sass Dumonde's death was still a raw wound and the attack upon his own life had been frightening in the extreme, no matter how many Jedi jokes his friends had made about it to try and lighten the mood.

"Okay, you win," he sighed. "I'll stay in the lab. And if I get tired, I'll sleep on your couch, boss, I promise."

"If?" mouthed Jo, but Mac shook his head. Good enough. Adam had their protection. Time to find out why he needed it.


	2. Chapter 2

**EASY TARGET**

**Author's note:** Thanks for the reviews! Now I see why you all love getting them so much. I was having a bad day yesterday, and it really cheered me up to know that people were enjoying my story. So, with that in mind, here comes…..

CHAPTER TWO

(Oh, and by the way, I still don't own Adam. Sigh.)

Two a.m.

Adam rubbed his aching eyes and tried to focus properly on the cards, but they danced across his screen in blurry trails. A whole hour of solitaire and he was maxed out. Plus, his ears were beginning to burn from listening to music for so long.

_Face it, Ross. You're going to fall asleep._

He shook his head. There was no earthly reason why he shouldn't take up Mac's kind offer. Couches were simply not scary, no matter what room they were in. And yet….

And yet, he couldn't do it. Mac was the boss, and you did not show weakness in front of the boss. Even at two a.m., on the longest day of your life.

Time for another round.

The cards flickered gently, luring him closer. Adam caught himself with a jerk, just as his head was about to hit the monitor.

Water. That was the solution. Take a drink, or maybe just cool his face a little. Adam staggered to his feet, muscles protesting against the stiffness of sitting for so long.

The night shift was often quiet but, on this particular night, so many people were out on call that the crime lab felt like a ghost town. If a ghost town could be made of glass and glowing screens, thought Adam deliriously. A warm light was on in Mac's domain, but the little lab tech purposely kept his eyes averted. Stumbling in the opposite direction, he headed for the locker room, the water fountain, and sanctuary.

Which was where Danny found him, half an hour later, stretched out on a hard wooden bench and twitching like a puppy.

"Yo, Adam," he grinned. "Is this the best you could do, buddy? Wait 'til Mac hears that you spurned his couch for the comfort of a locker room bench."

"Wha…?" Adam cracked open an eyelid with some effort. "Danny? What are you doing in my apartment?"

Danny waited. Sure enough, with both eyes open, Adam saw exactly where he was. "Great," he muttered, rolling off the bench. Now his back was stiff as well. "What time is it?"

"Half past two in the morning." Danny's phone beeped and he flipped it open carelessly as he checked out Adam's haggard appearance, trying not to show how concerned he really felt for the man. Glancing down, he almost dropped his phone in sudden horror.

"You gotta be kidding me!"

There on the screen was the very same image that he had walked in upon, not two minutes ago. Printed over Adam's sleeping body was the now familiar phrase.

"_Easy target."_

"What's the matter?" Adam leaned over, scrubbing a hand through his tangled hair as he did so.

"Oh, nothing. Just a lousy joke from Linz." Danny palmed the phone casually. "Come on. You've got a date with a couch, buddy. I'm taking you to the principal's office."

"Ha ha." Except that he really did feel like a schoolboy in disgrace, as Adam followed his friend through the lab to Mac's office. Once they reached it, Danny yanked Adam inside and closed the door.

"Mac," he said urgently, "now we've _really_ got a problem."

Mac looked up. Realisation dawned on Adam's face at the same time and he made a lunge for Danny's phone. "Show me," the little tech demanded. "I need to see. You can't stop me."

Wordlessly, Danny held up the mobile, tilting it so that Mac could see as well.

There was silence.

"This _is_ a joke," said Adam finally, backing away with his hands outstretched. "This is a bad joke, and really, it's not funny, Danny. I'm scared enough already. You don't need to mess with me."

"Adam, I swear, I didn't do anything." Danny's face was the picture of pained innocence as he turned to face his friend.

"Is that _our_ locker room?" asked Mac suspiciously. "Adam, when exactly was this taken?"

"I…I'm sorry, boss," mumbled the bewildered lab tech, staring down at the floor as a warm flush crept from the back of his neck to his cheeks. "I couldn't help it. I only went for water… and I sat down for a moment… That's all I remember, until Danny woke me up." The pounding filled his ears again, louder than ever, and suddenly Adam's head spun. Danny grabbed for him, catching his arm just in time. Adam flinched, and yelped. As Danny lowered him to the couch, he rolled up his shirt sleeve and poked at his upper arm gingerly. "That really hurt."

"Guess I don't know my own strength," joked his friend, flexing his muscles, but Mac looked down, brows furrowed.

"Adam, what's that red mark on your arm?"

At the same time, Danny's phone beeped again. All three men stared at each other in alarm.

"Do I have a choice?" sighed Danny. He flipped open the phone reluctantly. This time, there was no picture. Just a single red word on the same stark white background.

"_Contagious."_


	3. Chapter 3

**EASY TARGET**

**Disclaimer:** Maybe CBS would consider lending him to me for a little while... No? Oh well.

**Author's note: **Thanks again for the reviews. The comments were useful, and I have amended this chapter accordingly. Hope it helps.

**Chapter Three**

"Danny, guard the door." Mac crouched down and took a long, hard look at Adam, as if he were just seeing him properly for the first time. The little lab tech's cheeks were still flushed but the rest of his face was chalk-white, except for two dark smudges under his eyes. Adam ducked his head, embarrassed, and covered the mark on his arm.

"Let me see that," said Mac, prising his fingers away gently. Just as he had suspected. The skin was beginning to swell around it, but that was clearly a needle mark. "Are you sure you don't know how you got this?"

"N-no. At least – I'm always bumping into things, 'specially with all the walls being made of glass. Maybe I hit a corner too hard and just didn't notice."

"It's not a bruise, Adam. Have you been to the doctor lately? Had any injections in the last few days?" Mac tried to keep his voice calm, but his fear was rising. Looking up, Adam saw the panic hiding behind his eyes and began to tremble.

"Then the message really is about me? I'm the one who's contagious?"

"That's what we need to find out." Mac stood up and reached for the phone on his desk. "I'll get Sheldon here as fast as I can. In the meantime, will you _please_ lie down on my couch and get some rest? Danny and I won't be going anywhere, so it's safe to close your eyes."

"You wouldn't say that if you were inside my head right now," joked Adam feebly, but he did as he was told, curling on his side with one of Mac's cushions tucked in his arms.

"Very sweet," grinned Danny, from his post by the door. No one outside the room had noticed their predicament yet, and the two men weren't about to start a full scale panic until it was totally necessary. But they couldn't risk anyone else coming in. Not until they knew what they were dealing with.

Hawkes, like Danny and Jo, had just returned from a gruelling triple homicide scene that had sent them all spiralling into overtime. Mac finally tracked him down to autopsy, where he was exchanging notes with the night shift M.E. before heading home at last. Used to dealing with medical crises, Sheldon listened calmly to his boss's summary of the situation, but on the inside, his stomach was churning horribly. "I'm on my way," he told Mac. "Don't move from that room. And don't let anyone in."

"Already done," Mac replied, a little testily. "We know the procedure, Sheldon."

In the ten minutes that it took the doctor to clamber into a Hazmat suit and make his way to the crime lab, Adam did not stir. In fact, he had fallen into a sleep so deep that Sheldon had to shake him hard to get any kind of response.

"Go 'way," murmured the lab tech, clutching the cushion tighter. A tiny shudder ran down his arm as he did so, and he kept his eyes closed. "Don't want to."

"After I came all this way, and got all dressed up?" quipped Sheldon lightly. He turned to Mac and his face behind the mask was puzzled. "Mac, how did this happen? Jo told me about the message, but I thought that Adam hadn't left the crime lab. Does that mean someone got to him in _here_?"

"Unfortunately, yes," said Mac. "And believe me, they'll be sorry they did – as soon as I can get out of this room. Do you have any clue as to what we're dealing with?"

"Hard to say, until I can run some tests. The symptoms he's exhibiting could relate to a number of different diseases, with varying degrees of contagion."

"Then run 'em, Doc, as fast as you can," said Danny.

"Believe me, I will." Sheldon worked quickly, with little resistance from his patient other than a tiny whimper when the needle went into his arm. Adam's eyes opened for an instant, very wide and very blue.

"Hello, Doc."

"Hello, Adam. How are you feeling?"

Adam considered this carefully. "Fluffy," he mumbled at last, before dropping his head back down on the couch.

"Great," smirked Danny. "Very helpful. Very scientific."

Sheldon left to run the blood work and Mac returned to pacing around the room. He was beginning to feel like a zoo exhibit in a cage, as more and more people around the lab became aware of what was going on. Not that the Hazmat suit would have left them in any doubt. A loud and persistent banging announced the arrival of Jo, who had also been about to head home. Danny leaned heavily on the door, not trusting her to stay outside. Childishly, she stamped her foot.

"Mac, what went wrong?" she mouthed through the glass. Mac shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

"He fell asleep. That's all. At two in the morning, completely worn out by worry, the poor man fell asleep. And somehow they got to him. Jo, check out the locker room. They were in there; they must have been. Danny will show you the photo."

Jo nodded, glad to have something practical to do. Mac felt a little envious as he watched her scurry away.

"Hey, Mac. Your turn will come. And then, God help 'em." Danny folded his arms. "What I don't get right now, though, is – why Adam? What on earth could he have done to deserve all this?"

"Unfortunately, the messages had it right," said Mac. "Easy target. Adam lives alone, and travels alone – and whilst he talks to us a lot, he doesn't really _tell_ us anything. All that we know about him, we piece together from bits and pieces that he lets fall occasionally. The rest is just distraction."

"Are you saying that our lab tech has a secret life?"

Mac laughed. "No, of course not. I'm just saying that, if someone wanted to get to us – _any_ of us – Adam would be the perfect one to hit."

"Because we care about him," said Danny, slowly.

"He's contagious," sighed Mac, looking down at the sleeping figure on his couch.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jo stood in the middle of the locker room, trying to marshal her thoughts. Danny had sent a copy of his first message to her phone and she had enlarged it on the computer, but really, there was nothing new to see. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of poor Adam sleeping so peacefully, unaware of what was in store for him.

Turning her back on the bench, she tried to find the correct angle from which the photograph had been taken. It was not the doorway, as she had expected, or even a hidden camera near the ceiling. An empty locker creaked as she passed, making her jump. Pulling open the door, she balanced her own phone on the top shelf, activated the camera and then compared the two shots. Bench with sleeping lab tech. Bench without. The angle was identical. Jo smiled grimly. _Gotcha._ Then she frowned. Lord, they really _had_ been in the building. So much for security. She made a mental note to have a serious talk with the night shift duty officers.

As she dusted the shelf for prints, her mind wandered back to the sealed glass room and its three unhappy occupants. Prints safely stowed away, she picked up her phone again and dialled.

"Mac? He was here. The picture was taken by a camera phone placed in an empty locker. Camera's gone, but I've lifted several prints. Maybe they'll help."

"Or maybe they'll belong to the locker's last owner." Mac's negative humour was catching. Jo sighed.

"I know it. But I'll check them out anyway. At least we know for sure that they were inside the building."

"That's what scares me the most. How could they do that? Waltz right in here, without getting caught, and hurt one of my team? Or were they here all along? Are they _still_ here?"

"You're right. That _is_ a scary thought." Jo winced. "I'll get to work on the prints right away, Mac. We need to solve this before it gets even more frightening. How's Adam?" Her voice grew soft. Jo had an instinctive fondness for the little guy – had done ever since she arrived at the crime lab, weeks ago. It was so much fun to tease him, because his reactions were so wonderfully out there. Yet more than that, much more, she loved his warmth, and his kindness, and the quiet wisdom that hid in his shy, sweet smile.

"He's sleeping." Mac sounded cagey. "So far, so good. Sheldon's running tests."

"Well, that's what we do best," quipped Jo lightly.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Danny was trying to soothe a distraught Lindsay through the glass. The moment she had heard about his plight, she had dropped Lucy off with their startled neighbours and raced back to the crime lab in a state of high anxiety. Not wanting to look as though he were listening to their conversation, Mac was reduced to paperwork for distraction. A heavy thud startled them all. Looking up, Mac tried to hide an unexpected grin. Danny was not so subtle. He turned from the window and let out one of his trademark low chuckles.

"You got somethin' against that couch, Adam?" he demanded, bounding over to help the poor man, who lay sprawled on the floor in surprise, still clutching his cushion.

"No. I…. er, it's not very big. Sorry, boss." Adam stared up in alarm.

"No offence taken." Mac helped Danny to lift him up.

"Can…. can I stand for a bit? I feel really stiff, and it might help. I think I can manage."

"Okay, buddy." Danny let go, followed more slowly by Mac. Adam swayed, and held out his arms for balance. The cushion hit the deck, but the lab tech remained upright.

"Trippy," he sighed. "But better."

"How are you feeling?" asked Mac. "Aside from 'trippy', that is."

Adam considered. "Hot. And I've got this monster headache, right behind my eyes. Although that could be from trying to stay awake. Turns out solitaire is bad for you if you play it long enough. Who knew?" He grinned at Lindsay, who was peering through the glass, her nose almost pressed flat. Then his face fell. "Sorry you can't get out of here, Danny. Is she _very_ mad at me?"

"She's not mad at you. And she's not mad at me, not really. She's just concerned." Danny winced as a harsh cough suddenly shook Adam's frame. They caught him and lowered him back down to the hated couch.

"Th-thanks," he spluttered, clutching at his ribs. As the cough died away, he kept his arms there, hugging himself for comfort. "Feels just like the bug I had at Christmas."

"You were ill?" Mac looked surprised. "You never said anything. Or took time off, for that matter." He frowned, worried at the sudden revelation. Further proof of the lab tech's reticence.

Adam shrugged, embarrassed. "Busy time. Not important. Nothing a mug of hot lemon and some painkillers couldn't fix. U-unlike this. Whatever it is." He shuddered.

Leaning back, he closed his eyes. The light in Mac's office, dim though it was, had started to become unbearable. As he did so, the phone on Mac's desk rang, making all three of them jump.

"Taylor."

"Mac, it's Sheldon."

"About time." Mac put the call on speaker phone. Adam deserved to hear it too. There was no point in hiding anything now. "What have you got for me?"

"That depends. Do you want the good news or the bad news first?"

"Don't play games, Sheldon. I'm not in the mood."

The doctor gave a low chuckle. "Bad news is – Adam is definitely infectious."

A heartfelt groan came from the couch, followed by a cough.

"Good news," continued Hawkes relentlessly. "It's nothing more than a wicked dose of flu."

"Doctor Adam Ross!" grinned Danny, clapping his hands together in relief. "You called it right after all, buddy."

"That's great," the lab rat muttered. "Doesn't stop me feeling like death warmed up." Now that the weight had been lifted from him, he felt a stubborn need to be sorry for himself.

"Antibiotics," said Sheldon cheerfully, on the other end of the line. "Coupled with bed rest and plenty of fluids. You'll be right as rain in no time."

"What's right about rain?" grumbled Adam, but there was a little smile on his lips at last, and he opened his eyes again as the phone cut off. "Bed rest. Does that mean I can finally get off this couch? I'd like to go home."

"Sorry, Adam. No can do." Mac shook his head. "Have you forgotten how this whole mess started?" The detective considered. "But I agree that the lab is no place to convalesce. I'll get the precinct to post a uni on our tail. You're coming home with me."


	4. Chapter 4

**EASY TARGET**

**A/N:** There were supposed to be breaks between scenes in the last chapter, but when I posted, they disappeared! So I'm trying a new technique - hope it works better.

**Chapter Four**

On the few occasions when Adam had visited Mac's apartment before, he had found it utterly fascinating – much to the boss's alarm. 'Look, don't touch,' had quickly become Mac's firm mantra. This time, however, the reminder was completely unnecessary. Two minutes after stepping over the threshold, Adam had found the spare bed and dropped onto it in utter relief. Five minutes after that, he was lost in dreamland. Mac passed a mug of coffee out to Harris, the uniformed officer guarding his door, and then stood in the middle of his living room, breathing deeply and taking stock of the whole unreal situation.

What was going on?

Could Adam really have some secret enemy? Or were his initial suspicions correct – that the threats and the mind games had a broader scope? The thought that this was being carried out by an insider at the lab remained uppermost in his mind, nasty and insidious. They had access to both Jo and Danny's mobile numbers. They had access to the locker room. They clearly knew how much Adam meant to everyone. Mac frowned, and clenched his fist in anger. There was a sneaking cruelty to the whole affair that he hated. Someone wanted to hurt them – and they weren't in any kind of hurry about it.

Pulling out his phone, Mac dialled Jo.

"Any news on the prints?" he demanded.

"Sorry, Mac. You were right. They belonged to the locker's previous owner. A day shift tech named Carey Miller. The lab let her go last month. Budget cuts."

"Check her out anyway. Where she is now, where she's been staying for the last few weeks. She could have some kind of grudge against Adam." Even as he said it, Mac knew how ridiculous that sounded.

"Already done it, I'm afraid. She's been staying with her parents since she left us. Down in Florida. So I guess that's a dead end. I'm going down now to the security office, to review the tapes of people coming in and out of the building these last few days. I just wish we had cameras in the lab. It would make things so much easier."

"You know that was deemed a bad idea. Too much sensitive information. Turns out that's probably a good thing, if people can access us so easily. Imagine what they could do if they hacked the system. It happened once before, Jo. That means it could happen again. Technology is a two-edged sword."

"I know. I know, Mac. I just feel so frustrated. They can't be this good. There has to be something else that we can do."

"Right now, the best thing we can do is be on our guard. Adam is safe here with me. I want you to watch out for the others. There's only been one clear target so far, but the stalker could switch track if they're playing a long game."

"Then you think it really is a stalker?"

"Honestly? I don't know what to think. Stalkers aren't usually so invasive this early on. Which means that, if it is, then they've been watching Adam for some time. Why don't you get Flack to swing by his apartment in the morning and take a look?"

"I will. Good idea. In the meantime, why not try and get some sleep?"

"Only if you take your own advice," smiled Mac. "You've been up just as long as I have."

"Longer," Jo said, laughing. "Ellie's an early riser. All right – I'll catch some shut-eye once I've been to security. I promise. Now go to bed, Mac Taylor."

And the phone went dead.

Mac slipped it in his pocket once more, oddly relieved by the simple act of talking to someone else. Jo could be so…. reassuring. He still missed Stella, and had been truly taken aback by her sudden departure. But there was something very special about the woman who had taken her place. She brought a new warmth to their quirky family that they hadn't even known was missing. Just one of her ready smiles could brighten Mac's whole day – and he found that he was smiling too, more often than he had in years.

Jo's voice still echoed in his ears – _go to bed_ – and so he took one last look at Adam, who was sleeping soundly, knocked out by the drugs that Sheldon had prescribed for him. Satisfied, he sought his own bed, slipping between the cool sheets with relief. It wasn't long before he, too, fell fast asleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Adam awoke with a jolt. One hand reached out to his nightstand, where he usually kept his watch. Only the watch wasn't there.

Neither was the nightstand.

He sat up and opened his eyes, disorientated. Heavy curtains meant that the room was quite dark, but chinks of light showed through the crack in between. "Where am I?" muttered the lab tech…. and then, "Ow!" as a sharp pain suddenly flared up in his skull.

Scattered memories started to return. Something about Mac… and his couch…. No, his apartment.

_I'm in Mac's apartment!_

Adam gasped, and swung his feet off the bed in a hurry, ignoring his protesting muscles. The whole of his body ached, and his skin felt hot to the touch, but that didn't matter. _You have to get up,_ his confused brain insisted. _Up, man…. Man up._

Dammit.

He knew that Jo had only been fooling with him that day, trying to get him to open up about Sass's murder. But he really wished that she hadn't used such cutting words. No matter how often he told himself that she was kidding, that she didn't think of him in such a cowardly light, the echo remained, cropping up at the most unhelpful moments like a devil on his shoulder. _Man up. You're being ridiculous._

Adam shook his head and looked down to see what he was wearing. Oh, thank God. Still dressed. He must have just flaked out the moment he got here, and Mac had left him where he lay. Nothing more embarrassing than that, then. A brief memory of Spiderman boxers grabbed quickly from a drawer the previous morning flashed through his mind, and he cringed. _So close…. Oh boy._

Padding through to the kitchen, he gazed up at the cupboards, trying to guess which one would hold a glass. His throat felt like industrial strength sandpaper, and he desperately needed a drink.

"Top left," said a quiet voice behind him. "Here, let me get it."

Mac stepped past him, grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water, followed by ice from the freezer. Adam took it gratefully. The coolness was heaven on his skin, and so he pressed it to his cheeks and his forehead before taking a sip.

"Feeling any better?" asked his boss, looking quizzical. Adam gulped.

"Uh…. Sure, yes, lots."

"Liar," laughed Mac. "You look terrible."

"But I'm still here." Adam smiled back in return. "Could be worse, right? Could be down at the hospital, stuck in isolation, with no one to talk to. Or even…." His voice tailed off. _Dead_, supplied his brain helpfully. _Patient Zero._

"Looks like your glass is half full."

Adam looked down at the glass in his hand, and then flushed as he realised what Mac meant. "Gotta stay positive. Can't let things pull you down."

"Quite right." Mac pulled open another cupboard. "Toast? Or cereal?"

Adam shook his head. There was a ball of pain in his throat the size of a bagel. "Just water. Thanks, boss."

A swift knock at the door announced the presence of Detective Don Flack. He gave Adam a cheeky yet relieved grin as he stepped over the threshold. "Hey, Ross. Causin' trouble again? You must be goin' for some kind of record."

Adam hid his blush behind a sudden fit of coughing. Sensing his discomfort, Mac steered the detective up the few steps to his living room.

"What did you find?" he whispered.

"Apartment's clean," replied Don in the same undertones. He glanced down at Adam, but the little man was absorbed in sucking on an ice cube that he had tipped out from the bottom of the glass. "Actually, _really_ clean. Can you say 'O.C.D'?"

"That much I guessed," smiled Mac. "Remember the Kaplan case? So, no bugs, no peepholes. No sign at all of any stalker?"

"Not that I could find. And I looked _everywhere_."

"Don't tell Adam that," Mac advised. "He's jumpy enough already without picturing you going through all his stuff."

"What about my stuff?" asked Adam innocently, wandering up to join them.

"Just wondered if there was anything you needed," said Don quickly. "I could swing by your place and collect it, if you like."

"Oh. Oh, no, that's fine, it'd be far too much trouble. I'm okay." _Yeah – Detective Don Flack bringing me fresh underwear. Like that's going to happen._ The little man was beginning to feel as though he were trapped in some kind of truly ridiculous nightmare. The only thing that kept him grounded in reality was the throbbing pain in his head. No one could dream anything that bad. "Painkillers," muttered Adam obliquely, and staggered off in search of them.

Don looked sideways at Mac. "So, what now? You goin' to be his shadow?"

"Well, I can't take him back to the crime lab. We already know there's a breach, and I'm not letting Adam be the bait for a fishing trip. Not in his condition. He'll be safer here. With an officer on the door, and only one way in or out, I can't think of anything better."

"That's fine. I'll check up on him every chance I get. And if he needs me, Harris can get me on the radio in seconds." Don nodded, satisfied. "Meet you at the lab, then?"

After the detective had left, Mac went in search of Adam. The little lab tech was sitting at the kitchen table, head in hands. He looked up as Mac approached. "Hey, boss. Are we going to work now?"

"You're not. I'm putting you on sick leave, Adam, whether you like it or not. The lab won't fall apart without you."

"Great. My ego thanks you."

Mac grinned. "You know what I mean. You need to get better. And besides, I don't want the whole of the Crime Lab coming down with the flu."

"Okay." Adam looked around nervously. "Er… boss. You remember what you said about not touching stuff….? Um, what am I supposed to do all day? I mean, I could sleep, I suppose, but I've already done that. And I could watch the neighbours." He gave Mac an unexpectedly wicked grin. "I hear they're very entertaining."

Mac sighed. He had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to regret this later. "All right. One time offer. You can touch things. Read a book, watch tv. Make a meal if you're hungry. Just…. be careful, okay? I don't want to come back and find that there's been some kind of disaster, Adam."

"Can't imagine what you mean," squeaked the lab rat. "Thanks, boss."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Four hours sleep, a shower and a hug from Ellie (in that order), left Jo feeling good as new. Long hours had never bothered her – the FBI had not exactly been a nine to five gig either. She had learned long ago the art of taking cat naps, gathering her strength whenever she could so that she was ready for action. Question was, what to do next? She wasn't due at work yet, after such a late night, and she was fizzing with nervous energy. _Better do something,_ she said to herself, _or I'll burst._

Her thoughts turned to Adam, trapped in the boss's apartment. _And he thought the couch was a bad idea,_ grinned Jo. _Think I'll go and see how he's doing._ Snatching up her bag, she swung out of the apartment, hoping that she hadn't forgotten anything important.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Identify yourself," said the officer on duty, looking up as she approached Mac's door.

"Now come on, Harris, you know who I am. We met at a crime scene last week." Jo flashed him her I.D. and her high-powered southern smile. Harris laughed.

"Of course I do, ma'am," he agreed. "But I have to do this properly. Don't want Detective Flack on my case for skipping procedure."

"No, you surely don't." Jo was impressed. "Any problems?"

"All quiet. In you go, ma'am. Door's unlocked. For ease of entry, just in case," he added, unnecessarily.

Jo patted his arm. Turning the knob, she let herself in as quietly as possible. If Adam was sleeping, she didn't really want to disturb him. She would just check that he was okay, and then head to work.

A rustling noise to her left made Jo look up. To her surprise, she saw Adam, seated on the floor with his legs crossed and a big pile of books by his side. His head was down, engrossed in whatever he was reading. He looked happy, and peaceful – if a little pale. Jo almost regretted that she had dropped by. Still, too late now.

"Does Mac know you're doing that?" she asked slyly.

"Wha…?"

Adam dropped the book and shot to his feet so quickly that he knocked the whole pile flying. Bending down again, he tried to gather them up. Jo moved to help him.

"Oh. Hey, Jo. Yeah, guess what? I got special dispensation from the boss. I can touch his stuff today. One of the upsides of being stalked by a madman. Lucky me."

Jo laughed and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up. "Enough tidying. Tell me how you're doing."

"Are you my psychologist now? Should I lie down on the couch again?"

"Adam. Quit stalling."

Knowing when he was beaten, the lab tech looked her straight in the eyes. "I'm fine. A little groggy. Although that might be down to Sheldon's magic medicine. Still, I wouldn't stand too close if I were you."

"I'm not worried. I'm just glad that you're okay. That was a scary moment."

"I know," admitted Adam, quietly. "Jo – do you think it's over now?"

Her silence was more eloquent than any answer. They stared at each other unhappily.

"Let me get you a drink," said the little man, desperate for a distraction. "I think I've got Mac's kitchen sussed out by now."

"That would be lovely." As Jo turned to follow him down the steps, her mobile beeped. She pulled it out without thinking, and opened the message – but before she had time to read it, there was a loud _crack_, followed by a thud. Something small and silver had fired right through Mac's window, coming to rest at her feet.

"Adam…," she gasped, but he was right there already, faster than thought, grabbing her arm and pulling her past him. The next moment, there was a thunderclap of sound and debris that sent them both flying through the air. Jo's head connected with the floor, stunning her. Adam landed heavily on top of her, still clutching her wrist, which snapped with a wicked burst of pain. As the dust floated down all around them, and the tattered remnants of Mac's belongings, she could feel the vibrations of Harris banging wildly on the door. A heavy shelf had fallen across it, blocking the only way into the apartment. Before long, the banging stopped, and she guessed that he was radioing for help. _Good man,_ said a distant voice in her head. A grey haze was drawing in around her vision, and she knew that she would pass out very soon now. There was no movement at all from the man who lay sprawled on her chest. The man who had saved her life. _Adam,_ cried the distant voice desperately, but she could not seem to make herself move, not even a muscle. The mobile phone dropped from her nerveless fingers and hit the floor, still open. The message, still unread, flashed loud and clear, waiting to be found.

"_Round two."_


	5. Chapter 5

**EASY TARGET**

**A/N: **I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Does that make me bad...?

**Disclaimer:** CSI New York is not mine, but after feeling the (enjoyable) stress of keeping this story updated, perhaps I would have a nervous breakdown if it _did_ belong to me...

**Chapter Five**

When Adam came to, his first thought was one of utter confusion. He simply could not understand where he was, or how he had come to be there. The air around him was filled with a thick, choking dust, and there was something – no, _someone_ – lying directly underneath him. Holding his breath in panic, Adam opened his eyes.

"J-Jo?" he stuttered, recognising the woman's dark hair instantly. "I… I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

As Jo still did not move, Adam tried to roll off her. There was a strange grinding sensation across his back as he did so, and he hit the floor beside her with a muffled hiss of pain. Looking up, he tried to make sense of what he was seeing, but it was difficult. The room looked like a bomb site….

_Oh God,_ he thought despondently, as the reluctant memories came trickling back. _Mac's really going to kill me this time…._

_Focus, Adam. Don't freak out._

Trying not to think too much about his impending doom, Adam turned back to the problems at hand.

Was Jo alive or dead?

And how were they going to get out?

Trying to remember his annual first aid training, Adam bent down nervously over Jo's inert body. A gentle rasp of breath against his cheek answered the first question. As if sensing his presence, Jo shifted slightly and her eyelids fluttered, but did not open. With timid, trembling fingers, Adam probed the woman for injuries, trying to maintain her dignity, even though she was unconscious. It did not take him long to spot the unnatural position of her wrist. Guiltily, he remembered grabbing it, and wondered if he had caused the break himself. There was also a nasty lump forming on the side of her head. Other than that, she _seemed_ to be in one piece. "Jo?" he whispered, nervously - and then, much louder: "Jo!"

"Lord," came the feeble reply, "my ears are ringing…."

Adam almost laughed out loud, he was so relieved. "Mine too. Don't get up," he told her. "I think you banged your head."

"No kidding. How about you? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," he lied, through clenched teeth. "Just scratches. Nothing that a king-sized box of band aids won't cure."

At that moment, without any reason or warning, the sprinkler system kicked in over their head, filling the room with a cold wet drizzle that turned dust into slime and made Adam shudder. He rubbed his eyes and looked down – which was when he saw Jo's phone, and its hateful, glowing message.

"What's the matter?" mumbled Jo, staring up at his frightened face with foggy eyes.

"Oh – ah, nothing. Just trying to work out what to do next. Shouldn't they be trying to break us out by now?" As he spoke, Adam reached down quietly and slid the phone under the nearest pile of debris. He didn't really know what made him do it. He just wanted to get it out of his sight. In fact, he wouldn't care if he never saw a mobile phone again.

"Yeah," giggled Jo deliriously. "Mac…. and Flack…. with an axe." She closed her eyes again and reached up to clutch at her head with her one good hand.

Adam clambered to his feet, trying hard not to bump into anything. From this new, higher vantage point, he could see just what a wreck Mac's beautiful home had become.

"Can you get to the door?" asked Jo from below him. "I thought I felt someone banging earlier…. Adam! Lord, your back!"

Pretending he hadn't heard her, Adam began to pick his way through the rubble and around the broken floorboards. He knew that something was wrong – could feel his muscles complaining, and a bone-deep ache in his shoulders – but he really didn't want to think about it right now. Denial was fast becoming a habit with the lab tech – a means of grim survival. Too much time to think and he would break down like the cowardly fool he knew himself to be.

"Adam!" Jo's voice pulled him back again, firmer this time. When he turned around, she caught his gaze and held it.

"Thank you," she said. "For grabbing me."

"I broke your wrist," he murmured.

"You saved my life."

Adam's blue eyes widened. "Not really. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be in this mess."

"You don't know that." Jo sounded angry. "Could be they're after all of us. You're just…"

"…the easy target," he finished bitterly. "I know. Adam Ross, the helpless man-child."

"The hero." Jo struggled to sit up. "Give yourself some credit, Adam. Everyone else does, you know. The only one who thinks so little of you is _you_."

"You're right. I'm sorry." Adam shrugged, and then wished he hadn't. "Force of habit."

"What do you mean?"

The little man blinked. "What…? I thought you knew all about me. I thought you'd read my files."

"Actually, no, I didn't." Jo looked at him sideways, grinning ever so slightly. "Turns out you really _were_ easy. The only thing I looked up was your parents' names, and that's a matter of public record. The rest was just guesswork based on cold reading. I wouldn't invade your privacy like that. 'Specially when I hardly knew you. If I want to know something about a person, Adam, I much prefer to ask them." She paused. "I'm asking now."

He hesitated – and then jumped. A phone was ringing nearby. Jo's phone, the very one he had hidden, mocking him with its heartless, merry ringtone.

"That's funny," murmured Jo, searching the floor. "I had it in my hand. It can't have gone far."

Resigned to his fate, Adam made a poor pretence of looking around and then reached beneath the rubble at his feet. "Found it," he said miserably.

"Great! Now we can find out what's going on." Jo took the handset from him and looked down at the screen. Fortunately, the bomber's message had been replaced by a picture of the caller. To the guilty lab tech, this was not much of an improvement. "Hey, Mac," said Jo, with an admirable attempt at breeziness. "Where are you?" She keyed the phone onto speaker so that Adam could hear the conversation too.

"I'm outside my apartment," said a wry voice. "Any chance you could let me in?"

"Sorry, Mac. No can do. There's a bookshelf right across the doorway, and neither one of us is in any condition to shift it. You'll have to find another way."

"M-Mac...," stuttered Adam, crouching down next to Jo. "I'm so sorry….."

"Why? Did you do this?"

"Well…. No, but…. I broke _all_ your stuff. And it was so cool…."

"Adam. Focus," said Mac, his tiny voice sounding uncannily like the one in Adam's head. "You can grovel to me later. Right now, we need to get you out of there. Can either of you get to the door?"

"I – I can." Adam's back was growing stiffer by the minute, and every movement sent knives plunging through his shoulder blades. But one look at Jo made it clear that he had no choice. Her face was chalky through the dust, and she swayed where she sat. No way was he letting her stand up without a medic right there to help her. "I'm okay."

"Liar," hissed Jo, but her face was proud.

"Okay. Adam, I need to know where the wall is clear. If we can't make it through the door, then we'll have to break through beside it. So find a good spot and bang as loudly as you can."

"Okay, boss."

Adam rose to his feet once more. A flash of heat and pain tore through his skull, making him shudder. With a sigh of longing for his lost painkillers, buried somewhere under the rubble, he reached out his arms for balance and started to thread his way back towards the door. A cold wind was blowing through the shattered window, but he couldn't feel it. Even the icy needles from the sprinklers had turned to blazing arrows on his skin. The whole situation felt so unreal that, in Adam's feverish head, he wondered if he was stumbling through a delusion. His progress was slow, and meandering. Jo watched him unhappily. "Mac," she whispered into the phone, "you need to get in here."

"I know." Mac's voice was grim. "Tell me?"

"There's blood all down his back. And he can't walk straight." She paused, her throat growing tight. "He saved my life, Mac, do you know that?"

"I made it," said a husky voice from across the room, interrupting their conversation.

"Okay," said Mac, relaying his instructions through Jo. "Start hammering."

Adam raised his fists to the wall. The first few blows were feeble and barely made a sound. But as his pain and his desperation increased, so did his strength, fuelled by adrenaline.

"Stop!" cried Jo. "That's enough. They know where you are."

"Now tell him to move out of the way," advised Mac. "We're coming through. And it's going to be messy."

"Well, that'll just fit right in." Jo smiled, and then looked up at Adam. He was leaning on the wall, grey-faced. "I wouldn't stay there, if I were you," she advised him.

"What? Oh, no. Of course not." Adam shook his head, as if to try and clear it. Then he picked his way gingerly back to her, sitting down with a heavy thud. He closed his eyes, as the pain in his back slid all the way up his neck, adding to the headache from hell that was already lodged in his head. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel the room spinning around him. Or was he the one that was spinning…?

"Adam!" said a voice in his ear. Distant thumping mingled with the blood pounding in his ears.

"Hmh?" he mumbled drowsily.

"Stay awake, Adam. Talk to me, honey. Come on, tell me what you meant before."

"Before when?"

"Before the phone call. 'Force of habit', you said. What habit could possible make you doubt yourself the way that you do?"

Adam cracked his eyes open and stared at Jo's solemn face. "I d-don't like to talk about it much."

She frowned. "Maybe that's your problem. Do the others know what it is?"

"D-Danny. Maybe Mac. Boss man knows everything – have you noticed? And S-Stella." _Stella. I miss Stella…_ But Jo was here now, and desperate to help him. "My dad was a bully," he whispered. "Sometimes violent. It…. it gets inside your head, you know. When someone tells you so many times that you're worthless. Someone that knows you so well."

Jo's mouth crooked in sudden anger. "Sounds to me like he didn't know you at all."

"Th-that's nice. Thank you." Adam's face broke out unexpectedly in that charming, wistful grin of his. Now Jo could see what lay behind it – and it made her feel sad, as the key to his whole personality clicked right into place. Not only his self-doubt, but also his need to please, and his complex relationship with Mac. Everything made sense, when you knew that one little detail. _Little._ Jo's eyes flashed. That someone could hurt such a loving, funny, _warm_ human being as he was…. And that he could overcome it with such courage and secret dignity. Never saying much about it, and never making excuses for who he was. Surely _that_ was the definition of a hero. _And how on earth did I miss it? Think you can read people, Jo Danville? Think again._ She laid her hand on his arm in silent friendship. Comforted, he closed his eyes once more and leaned on her shoulder – taking care, even now, not to nudge her broken wrist.

That was how Mac found them, pushing straight in after the two firemen who had forced their way through the wall. In the midst of so much wreckage – _his_ wreckage – it made him smile.

"Time to leave," he told them. "The paramedics are right behind us."

"Good," breathed Jo, with feeling. She gazed around the room. "Looks like you'll be staying at my place tonight, Mac Taylor. I guess you need a few lessons in southern hospitality..."


	6. Chapter 6

**EASY TARGET**

**Chapter Six**

Adam never even felt the paramedics lay him sideways on a stretcher, or carry him down the stairs and out of the building. His exhausted body had dropped him into a stupor, leaving all his pain and worry behind as he wandered through a white fog of confusion. Once in the ambulance, they studied his back more closely. Mac stood in the doorway, his face a mask, his eyes full of anger.

"Looks like a cheese grater," commented Don Flack over his shoulder, making the older man jump. "He's got half of your apartment lodged in his back. That's gotta be painful." A memory stirred in his own mind, dim and frightening. He pushed it away.

"We'll need to take the splinters when you've removed them all," Mac told the paramedics. "Some of them could have come from the explosive device."

The female paramedic shook her head in disgust. _Crime scene investigators. Vultures._ "First we stabilise him," she argued. "Then we'll discuss forensics."

"No." Mac turned the full weight of his frustration upon her. "Saving the evidence won't jeopardise his life. But _not_ saving it may mean that we lose some valuable information. And that will _certainly_ put this man in danger. The bomb was meant for him. He survived it. If we don't catch this maniac, then who knows what they'll try next time. Sophie." His eyes travelled down to her badge. "Do you understand?"

She shrugged, unfazed by his tirade. "Not my call, sir. The splinters will have to be removed at the hospital. There's been far too much bleeding already. All we can do right now is stabilise him, as I said before. Detective Taylor." _I can read badges too, angry man._

Hastily, Don stepped in between them. "Look, Sophie. This man is our colleague and our friend. We only want to protect him."

"As do I."

"Then we're agreed? You'll save the evidence?"

Sophie held his gaze for a moment. "I'll pass on your request," she said at last. "I'm sure the hospital will comply."

"M-Mac?" gasped a frightened voice behind her. Adam struggled to raise himself on the gurney, in spite of the male paramedic's attempts to ease him back down. "Is that you? Where's Jo?"

Darting past Sophie before she had time to raise any objections, Mac crouched down face to face with the little lab tech. "Adam. Don't worry, Jo's fine. They're taking care of her in another ambulance. You did a good job of looking after her."

"Did she tell you to say that?" A tiny smile crossed Adam's weary face, and his blue eyes crinkled at the corner. "I broke her wrist, you know."

"I know. But I really don't think she minds." Mac gave a wry chuckle. "It'll give her a good excuse to get out of her paperwork for a week or two."

"Guess I'll be off work for a couple more days as well." Adam sighed. "Do I have to go to the hospital?"

"I'm afraid so. But don't worry. Don's coming with you, and he'll make sure that you're safe."

"_Round two,_" muttered the lab rat, with a guilty look on his face. Mac looked puzzled.

"What's that?"

"It was a message on Jo's phone. Right before the bomb came through the window. I…. I hid it." He closed his eyes in shame. "I just couldn't deal with it. Sorry, boss."

"I don't think I blame you," Don remarked. He had been listening to their conversation quietly, trying not to interrupt, but he couldn't stand to see the look on Adam's face. "Probably have done the same thing myself."

"Wait a minute…. Did you say the bomb came through the window?" Mac frowned in concentration. "Fast or slow?"

"F-fast, I think. I wasn't looking. I only heard the crack as it came through the glass."

"Where did it land?"

"Right by Jo. At the top of the steps. I… I pulled her away. Then it blew."

"And how far did you travel?"

Adam shuddered, facing the memory. "Right across the room. It wasn't as powerful as before, but I think I was closer. So it threw us both quite far. After that…. well, I don't remember anything. Not until I woke up on top of Jo. I mean…." He flushed, realising what he had said.

"Don't be embarrassed. You were shielding her, so of course you were on top of her. What do you mean, not as powerful as before?" Mac was puzzled. Adam swallowed uncomfortably. The pain in his throat was still strong, and it made breathing difficult.

"I m-mean the car bomb. When I was playing hockey. Y-you remember?"

_How could we forget?_ Mac and Don exchanged guilty looks.

"Turns out we all have something in common, hey Ross?" said Don Flack softly. "Except you've survived _two_ explosions now. Must be some kinda super hero."

The lab tech smiled drowsily, pleased by this thought. "Yeah," he murmured. "Adam Ross – the indestructible man." He closed his eyes at last, drifting off quietly. Sophie cleared her throat.

"Are we quite done now?" she enquired with careful politeness. "Because I'd really like to get him to the hospital. If you don't mind."

Mac stood up. "Of course. I apologise." He climbed out of the ambulance, changing places with Flack. "The detective will be going with you. For Adam's safety. That's non-negotiable, I'm afraid."

Sophie shook her head. "I'm not unreasonable, you know, Detective Taylor. Of course he can come with us." Flashing him a sudden, apologetic smile, she began to close the doors. "Good luck with your investigation. And – don't take this the wrong way, but – I hope we don't see you soon."

"I quite agree," said Mac grimly, as he watched them drive away.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Oh, Mac. Your poor apartment," sighed Lindsay, stepping through the jagged hole in the wall. It had taken several hours, but the firemen had finally deemed it safe for them to work. Danny followed her, shaking his head.

"Man, this is terrible. Thank God your neighbours were out at work. I can't believe Adam and Jo made it out of here in one piece."

"Not quite one piece, I'm afraid," growled Mac. "Jo's wrist is broken and she has a bad concussion. As for Adam…."

"Yes – I saw him being carried out of here," said Lindsay, full of sympathy. "Is he going to be okay?"

"He will. In the meantime, I think we owe it to him to find out exactly who's doing this. You know he'd do the same for us."

"I know it." Danny placed his kit carefully amongst the rubble and looked around. "Where did he say the bomb went off?"

Mac pulled on a pair of latex gloves. His face wore a mask of focussed, driven intensity. "It came through the window and landed at the top of those stairs. According to Adam, Jo was standing right there. He pulled her away, and then the bomb sent them flying across the room. We found them over by the kitchen. I can only assume that's where they landed. Adam was wandering around, but Jo never moved – he wouldn't let her.

"Good man." Danny headed over to the little set of stairs. Lindsay smiled and went the other way, stepping carefully over the holes in the floor and the piles of broken belongings. Mac watched them settle down to work, and tried not to think too hard about the fact that this was _his_ apartment, his belongings. _It's all just stuff, at the end of the day. The important thing is that no one was killed. Not yet. And we still have a chance to make this right._

He picked up a cracked photograph of Claire and dusted it gently with his fingers. _This time, we can make it right….._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Will you please stop shining that blessed thing in my eyes? There's nothing wrong with my brain, and you know it!"

Jo sat on the edge of a hospital bed, fuming. Her plastered wrist was clasped loosely in her other hand, and her clothes had been exchanged for a draughty gown. Other than that, she felt fine, and extremely annoyed. "I told you," she continued. "My headache has gone, my vision is fine and I truly don't feel sick. Now – when can I see my friend?"

The on-call doctor, who didn't look old enough to take a spelling test, let alone diagnose a patient, sighed unhappily. "Ms Danville. You've been through a traumatic experience. Your wrist is broken in two places and you've suffered a _severe_ blow to the head. Pardon me for taking every precaution. Here in the emergency room, we really don't like being sued."

"Then you'd better give me back my clothes and let me out of here," snapped Jo. "Or I'll sue you for infringement of my basic human rights."

The doctor stepped back and threw up his hands in disgust. "Very well. Suit yourself. Just don't come crying to me when you collapse in a heap somewhere embarrassing."

She slid off the bed and gave the poor boy her very best withering look. "Not likely. And thank you _so_ much for your help." Grabbing her clothes from the chair where they lay, she headed for the bathroom. The doctor watched her go, shaking his head.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Once dressed, it didn't take Jo long to find the room where Adam was being treated. Her first and best clue was the sight of Don Flack standing outside the door like a sentry. She was heartily glad to see him there. Jo had felt a natural connection with Don from the moment she met him, just as she had with Adam. They shared a sense of humour, and of dedication to their work. Besides, a handsome man was always a pleasure to see. She grinned, and Don grinned back, happy to see her on her feet.

"So, they let you go, then?"

"Not without a fight," laughed Jo. "I'm afraid I just don't make a very good patient." She glanced at the door behind him. "How is he? Tell me truly, Don."

"Drowsy. And sore like you wouldn't believe. He's had a hell of a couple of days. They've left him to sleep for now." Don's voice softened, and his blue eyes twinkled kindly. "But I'm betting he'd be glad to see _your_ smiling face. He's been asking about you, over and over, since we pulled you both out of there." Always the gentleman, he swung open the door for her and let her pass. Unaccountably nervous all of a sudden, Jo sidled into the room.

There were three beds before her, but only one was occupied. Adam was curled up on his side beneath the covers. His eyes were closed, but she could tell by the hitch in his breathing that he wasn't really asleep. "Hey, Jo," he murmured drowsily.

"How did you know it was me?" She pulled up a chair and sat down beside him, laying her hand on his shoulder.

"I have X-ray vision." The little man opened his eyes and smiled at her sideways. "Plus you wear a very unique perfume. Spicy, and kinda sweet. Like cinnamon. Lindsay's more floral. And the staff just blend in with the hospital. Instituational dinners and over-washed linen. With a strong top-note of hand gel."

"Detective Adam Ross. Have you been taking lessons from Mac?"

He shrugged, and winced. "No. I just notice stuff. 'Sides, I heard you talking with Flack." Nervously, his gaze travelled down to her arm, and the bulky white plaster that now encased it. "Are you okay, Jo?"

"I'm just peachy, thank you. Doogie Howser back there tried to keep me in for observation, but I told him that was ridiculous."

Adam stared at her in admiration. "Wish I could be that firm. Not only am I stuck in here, but I seem to have an armed guard too."

"You mean Don? He's just concerned."

"Jo. We're in a hospital. What could possibly go wrong?"

"Lord, don't say that! Are you trying to invite more trouble?"

He looked away. "No. Sorry. Look, maybe you'd better go, before something else _does_ happen. I wouldn't want to hurt you all over again."

"Adam. You never hurt me. We talked about this – remember?"

"'S'okay." Looking down, he tried to hide the tear that was trickling down his cheek. "'S the drugs that're making me blue. On the upside, though, my back doesn't hurt any more. Or my head. In fact, I can't really feel much of anything…"

"Can you feel this?" Standing up, she bent over him and planted a soft kiss on his forehead.

"Wh-what was _that_ for?"

Jo walked to the door. At the last minute, she turned on her heel and smiled at him.

"For being you," she said. "Feel better, Adam."


	7. Chapter 7

**EASY TARGET**

**Chapter Seven**

Time passed. Adam's head ached from being on one side for so long, but he actually found he preferred that to the invisible pain in his bandaged, anaesthetised back. To his muddled brain, it felt as though half of his body was missing, and that disturbed him enormously. After Jo's visit had come Sheldon, and then Danny, bringing profuse apologies from Lindsay, who was stuck in the lab processing mounds of evidence. "I've actually come for the shards that were in your back," he confessed. "That's why Mac let me out. Gonna need a truck to get 'em to the crime lab, though."

"Ha ha," whispered Adam, who was finding conversation harder and harder. _Tired. I'm so tired. Why can't I sleep?_

Danny tilted his head. Recognising Adam's plight, his manner softened. "Don't worry, buddy. We'll get 'em. You just concentrate on gettin' outta here. We need you back at the lab. Who else has to do all the grunt work if you're not there? Me, that's who."

Adam closed his eyes. When he opened them, Danny had gone and the room was considerably darker. How much time had passed? It felt like only a second - and yet the hospital was quiet now. A shadow moved on the other side of the door, and Adam felt comforted. Detective Flack, still at his post. Did the man never sleep?

"How are you feeling?" said a quiet voice behind him.

Adam jumped. He tried to turn but his body was so stiff that it was impossible. Instead, he managed an awkward half-roll and peered over his shoulder.

"I'm... I'm okay. Who are you?"

The woman laughed. "Don't worry, Mr. Ross. I'm a doctor here. Doc Peters has gone home. It's my shift now. I'm just checking up on you." She laid a small hand on his back and he jerked away, hissing in pain. The drugs must have started to wear off, because suddenly now he could feel everything. "Sorry," said the doctor. "I'll see what I can do about that. And I'm afraid we'll need to change your bandages again. There's still some blood coming through. Can't have that all over our nice clean bed sheets." She laughed again. Adam smiled nervously, trying to ignore the throbbing ache that threatened to overwhelm him. Looking down at his hand, he noticed that the drip had been pulled out.

"Ready for another one. In a little while. If you're good." She hovered in the shadows, just out of his line of sight. A strange sense of unease filled the room, so bitter and frightening that Adam could almost taste it.

"D-Don," he croaked, but the sore throat had rendered his voice almost inaudible by now, and the door remained closed.

"You're not in any danger," said the woman's voice soothingly. "Leave the detective outside. I told you. I'm a doctor."

A strange cold feeling crept up his back. It took him a few moments to realise that his bandages were being cut away, one by one. He could feel the doctor's breath on the back of his neck - and there was something else. _Perfume. Sharp and musky. Not the hospital..._

"Who are you?" he asked again - but this time, the doctor did not reply. Instead, another scent wafted towards him, and this one was far more sickly. It caught at the back of his throat and made him gag. "No... d-don't want it..." Now the scent was in his head, dimming his thoughts and making his eyes grow heavy. "Help," he whispered, but no one else was there to hear him. Adam held on for as long as he could, but it was no use. Blackness crept over his vision and the real world disappeared.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Thank you, Detective," said the doctor, closing the door with a gentle click. "He's sleeping now. Should be out until the morning, with any luck. Sleep's a great healer, after all."

"That's good news." Don nodded politely. "See you later, then, doc?"

"After my rounds. I'll look in on him then. Perhaps you should get some rest yourself? Can't have any bags under those baby blue eyes of yours. What would your girlfriend say?"

"I... er... I don't have one," fumbled Don, strangely unsettled by the personal observation. He stared after the petite woman as she slipped away down the corridor, her manner oddly furtive. Something was nagging at him and he just couldn't shake it. Holding his breath, he slowly opened the door to Adam's room.

The little man appeared to be sleeping peacefully and so, with a sigh of relief, Don turned to go. But something was still prickling at the back of his neck - a sense of wrongness that made him look back just one more time.

And then he saw it.

Adam was lying on his back.

Don's mouth went dry. He had seen the state of Adam's wounds, and no way could anyone sleep peacefully if they were lying on that. Besides, no self-respecting doctor would have left him that way. Diving towards the bed, he reached out his shaking hands and lifted the cover that had been tucked so neatly under Adam's chin. Lost in a pain-filled nightmare, the little man whimpered, but could not wake up. To Don's utter horror, blood was spreading out across the sheet beneath Adam's torso. Shoved further down the bed were the shredded remnants of his bandages, and what looked like unpicked stitches.

Don's phone beeped.

With a sense of dread, he pulled it out and keyed up the message.

_"Now you see me..."_ it said.


	8. Chapter 8

**EASY TARGET**

**A/N: **Thank you so much for your kind reviews. I'm glad that you are enjoying the story!

As I have no medical knowledge other than snippets picked up from tv programmes such as CSI and Diagnosis Murder (yes, a _very_ reliable source, I'm sure!) I have been picking the brains of my friend who is a nurse (though not in the US) so that I get the hospital details at least semi-accurate. With that in mind, any mistakes are purely unintentional, so please be kind and overlook them for the sake of the story. And I promised my friend I would say thank you officially. Thank you!

Now, on with the story. And - oh yes - since he hasn't turned up on my doorstep yet and stolen me away, I still don't own Adam... What's keeping him, I wonder?

**Chapter Eight**

Coming out of his drug-induced state was like floundering in quicksand. Adam longed to escape the torment of his dreams, full of ugly, twisted memories from the last few days, and from his childhood. It was almost as though every bad thing in his life had come back to haunt him, revelling in their opportunity. _Go away,_ he told them, hopelessly. _I want to wake up now. Just leave me alone._

Someone else was there beside his bed. He could feel their presence, even though he couldn't tell who it was. He hoped that it wasn't the creepy doctor. In his muddled state, he didn't really know what had happened to him, but he knew that it was something bad. _Maybe when I wake up, it'll all be over,_ he told himself, trying to stay positive.

With one last, painful effort, Adam cracked open his eyes - and saw that the person was Jo.

"You're back," he whispered, trying out his voice. It felt rusty, and the words scratched his throat. He peered at her face. "Jo? Are you crying?" For some strange reason, that frightened him. Jo was sympathetic and emotional, but also very strong. If she was upset, was that because of him? Was he...?

"Dying?" he gulped. "Jo, what happened to me?"

"Oh, honey. Oh, no, it's nothing like that. You just... well, you gave us a bit of a scare. But it's okay now. I'm so glad to see you awake."

He tried to raise himself but found that his back was numb once again, and wrapped in a veritable straitjacket of bandages. His head felt like lead, and his whole body was weak. Adam shivered.

"Did - did she do something bad?"

"Did who, honey?"

"Th-the doctor. She was scary, Jo. I wanted to call for help, but I couldn't do it. Did..." He swallowed. "Did she hurt me?"

"Not badly." Jo's tone was careful and she kept her face calm. "Don guessed that something was wrong, and called for help."

"Something? What kind of something?" A cold memory surfaced. "She... she was cutting off my bandages. Did she hurt my back?"

Recognising that she could not put it off any longer, Jo took a deep breath and told him the truth.

"She cut out your stitches, Adam. That was all. Then she turned you on your back and left. Don thought that she seemed suspicious, so he went in to check on you. If he hadn't..."

_I could have bled to death,_ guessed Adam, but he didn't want to say it either. Voicing it out loud would make it seem too real. Jo saw his face, and nodded.

"But Adam, it could have been so much worse. And it wasn't. Don kept you safe, and called for help, and not one of us will leave you alone now until this is over." Her passion spilled out into her words, filling them with conviction. "That's a promise."

"Then you didn't catch her?" said Adam in a tiny voice.

"No. But the hospital has surveillance. And she left a hell of a mess. There's so much more to work with now. It's only a matter of time."

Adam tried to think back. He wanted to help, to be more than just a victim. At last, another detail broke through the fog. "She smelled wrong."

Jo tilted her head on one side. "Perfume again? Do you have some kind of fetish that I don't know about, Adam?" Her smile let him know that she was only teasing him. In reality, her eyes were bird-bright and interested.

"No! I mean... yes, she wore perfume. There was no hospital smell at all. It was like... like musk." He wrinkled his nose. "I hated it. And then there was a different smell. Sweet, and nasty."

"That would be chloroform." Jo frowned. "Very old school. Don could smell it on your breath when he found you. You must have breathed an awful lot of it in. You've been asleep for hours and no one could wake you."

"I tried to wake up." The little man shivered again. "But my dreams wouldn't let me."

Jo nodded. "I know, honey," she said. "I've been there too. A long time ago, but I still remember it vividly."

"You've been drugged too?"

"Old FBI case that went sour. No one ever said this line of work was safe, I'm afraid."

"I doubt that anyone could predict a crazy female stalker, with bombs and needles, and choloform." Adam blinked, as another thought occurred to him. "Was... was there a message?"

"Yes, there was. Good guesswork, Adam. Don got it this time, just as he found you. He was _not_ impressed that she managed to hack his phone." Jo paused. _"Now you see me..."_

Adam shook his head. "But I didn't. She stood behind me the whole time. Detective Flack must have been the only one to get a good look at her." Closing his eyes, he sank back into the bed, as weariness threatened to overwhelm him once again. "Jo - I'm so tired. But I don't want to fall asleep. What if she comes back?"

"You know what?" said Jo. "I truly hope that she does. Because then she'll have me to deal with. I'm staying here all day, Adam. And tonight, it'll be Danny. And Donald, and Mac, and every one of your friends. Like a wall of iron, we're surrounding you. And God help her if she tries to get through, because I can't answer for what any of us will do."

Adam stared at her, stunned by her vehemence. Before he could respond, however, Mac walked in, and any words of gratitude that had been hovering on his lips died away at the sight of his boss's face. Clearly he had bad news to impart - but when he saw that Adam was awake, a sudden smile broke through, surprising the little lab tech with its intensity. _There's too much emotion in this room,_ thought Adam, irrationally. _I can't bear it._

"Take a moment," suggested Jo. "I'm going for coffee." She stood up and offered her chair to Mac. As she headed for the door, she turned back with a wicked smile upon her face. "And Adam? Don't you dare start by apologising..."

He gulped, lost for words, because that was exactly what he had been about to do. "But... But..."

"If you're worried about my apartment," said Mac in even tones, "I'm chalking that one down to the stalker. You have nothing to feel guilty about."

Adam nodded, and tried a feeble smile. "I was being really careful with your stuff, too. Is everything ruined?"

"Actually, no. The bomb only affected the main living area. My kitchen will need a whole new range of crockery, and every window in the place was blown out, but the bedrooms and the bathroom are virtually intact." He smiled back. "As are my friends."

"I don't _feel_ intact," sighed Adam. "But thanks for the reassurance."

Mac eyed him wearily. "Adam. Are you _sure_ that you can't think of anyone who might have a grudge against you? This whole thing seems so... personal."

"Believe me, boss, if there was, I would have told you straight away. I've been racking my brains like crazy - whenever I've been conscious, that is," the little man joked shyly. "But there's no one."

"Then... pardon me for prying, but... what about your father?"

_So he does know._

"My father's in Arizona." Adam's cheeks flamed, and his voice grew even quieter. Besides, this doesn't feel like Dad's... style. He's subtle. And secretive. Everything behind closed doors. Isn't that what they call it?" He slipped his trembling hands out of sight beneath the sheets, and stared at Mac with enormous eyes. For one moment, his soul was laid bare for the man to see. It was a gift to his boss, a moment of trust, and Mac steeled himself to take it, even though the pain was almost more than he could bear. _And Adam lives with this every day._ A sudden connection blossomed between them, born of sadness. Adam's past and Mac's loss, linked together by that one honest look.

Adam turned away, and the moment passed. For a while, there was silence. Then the little lab tech shook his head and the mask dropped back into place. "'Sides," he said, "I thought it was a woman. The creepy doctor lady, with the scissor fetish and the really bad perfume." He smiled tentatively, inviting Mac to settle back into their usual edgy, exasperated-boss-versus-hyperactive-lab-tech relationship. "Didn't we catch her on the hospital surveillance?"

"Unfortunately, no." Mac's face returned to the grim expression that it had worn when he first entered the room. "That's what I came to tell you both. Seems she knew where all the cameras were, even the hidden ones. There's not a usable shot to be had."

"But Detective Flack saw her?"

"Yes. And he's working with Sheldon right now to create a picture. Lindsay's working the hospital room, and Danny has the bandages that she cut from your back."

Adam sighed. "I wish there was something _I_ could do. I feel so helpless, just lying here."

"I know what you mean." Mac's grin was oddly sympathetic. "It's a cliche, Adam, but really, the best thing you can do right now is heal."

"That's what I was _trying_ to do," he grumbled. "Boss, I really don't want to be here."

"I know." As Jo peered round the door, Mac stood up. The smell of fresh, strong coffee filled the room. "Unfortunately, it's still the safest place for you to be right now."

"I promise I won't leave your side," smiled Jo.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Don Flack was beyond frustrated. He slammed his palm into the light table, sending digital ripples rolling across the screen.

"Hey," said Sheldon, "don't take it out on the equipment."

"Sorry." Don rubbed his eyes. "I guess I'm just tired, okay?"

"That's an understatement." The doctor examined him, head on one side. "Pale skin, irritable manner, bags under the eyes... When was the last time you slept?"

Don fished about for a snappy reply, but had to admit that he actually couldn't remember. "Maybe I got carried away. I just feel so... responsible."

"That's ridiculous." Sheldon folded his arms. "You saved his life."

"Doc, I let her in there."

"A doctor. Into a patient's room. Shame on you."

Don shook his head. "I don't know. I should have maybe... asked to double-check her ID, or left the door open, or... or something."

"Hindsight is a wonderful thing," said Hawkes with feeling. "Flack, you did enough. This woman is good."

"Tell me about it." Don stared back down at the composite. Small, bland features. Non-descript hair. This wasn't going to get them anywhere.

"Look," said the doctor, "take a break. Go home; get some rest. I'll run this through all the facial recognition programmes I can think of. Yes," he continued, as Don opened his mouth to protest, "I know it's unlikely to ring any bells, but at this stage it's worth a try."

Flack nodded, admitting defeat. "Okay, doc. I guess you're right. Call me if you find anything."

"You'll be the first to know."

In spite of his tiredness, Don managed a grin. "Better make that the second. You know how Mac feels about bypassing him with important information. I wouldn't do that to you, buddy."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lindsay processed Adam's first hospital room with a thoroughness that was bordering on anal but, when she had finally finished, she had to admit that she still wasn't satisfied. There were print lifts by the score and so many trace examples that she felt more than a little dubious about the effectiveness of the hospital's cleaning staff. "Swamped by evidence," she muttered gloomily, "and I don't even know if any of it will help. I could be chasing my tail for hours, and still not find anything."

Whilst the lab tech who had accompanied her loaded all the tape lifts and bindles into the car, Lindsay took a deep breath and headed for Adam's new room. Having spent hours working on the wreckage that he had left behind him, she was almost afraid of what she might find. But when she reached his door and held out her hand to knock, the first sound that she heard was Adam's gentle laughter. Curious, and greatly relieved, she pushed open the door and peered around it.

"Hey, Adam. Just wanted to see how you were doing," she said shyly, reluctant to spoil the moment. Jo paused in the middle of a dramatic gesture. Clearly, she had been regaling him with some kind of story to cheer him up. She turned to Lindsay and winked, as Adam's face lit up. He was pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes, but Lindsay could see that the sparkle was still there, in spite of everything, as he croaked out her name with delight.

"L-Lindsay. I'm fine. I... they gave me some kinda new drugs, an' I feel much better. Isn't that cool?"

"Very cool," she said solemnly, but her eyes were smiling. Adam laughed again - a husky, awkward affair, but still the best sound she had heard all day.

"Sorry for making so much work for you guys," he told her. As Jo turned to frown at him, he grinned. "Okay - no, I'm not, 'cos Jo says I've got to stop saying 'sorry'." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "She's strict, Linz. I'm startin' to think she might be scarier than Mac..."

"You do know that I can hear you," Jo whispered back, leaning in. Adam grinned loopily.

"Exactly what kind of drugs have they given you, Adam?" joked Lindsay.

"I don't know - but if I need more, then I just gotta press this little button..."

Jo reached out and eased the pain control switch out of his hand. A little light was flashing on it. "No, Adam," she said. "I think it's trying to tell you that you've had enough." She laid the switch gently by his side.

"'kay. Thanks." Closing his eyes, he slid down the bed and snuggled onto his side. "Gon' sleep now. Jo's here, so 'm safe from creepy doctors. Night-night, Lindsay. Thank you for comin' to see me."

"My pleasure," sighed Lindsay softly, as she backed out of the door.


	9. Chapter 9

**EASY TARGET**

**Chapter Nine**

Mac looked up from a mountain of paperwork as Danny poked his head through the office doorway.

"Hey, boss. That's me, just off to the hospital to babysit Adam. You goin' home anytime soon?"

Rubbing his temples, Mac grimaced at the pile in front of him. "Doubtful. I'm in for the long haul. Tell Jo not to expect me at her place. I think it's my turn to sleep on the couch tonight. Perils of being the boss. Any luck with those bandages?"

Danny shook his head. "She must have worn gloves when she cut 'em off. I checked the abandoned stitches for epithelials, too. Hawkes says it's a tricky business tryin' to yank those out. But somehow she managed it, cos I got nothin'."

"And the shards from Adam's back?"

"Tested positive for explosive residue. Most of them were just glass and splinters from your apartment, but two or three matched the fragments that we found at the scene. The doc's got all the pieces of the bomb and he's busy doin' a little jigsaw right now." Danny grinned. "So I left him to it. Lindsay's still runnin' through a mountain of prints and tape lifts. Guess they're in for the long haul too. Maybe you should order take-out together."

"We might just do that." Mac narrowed his eyes. "Keep him safe, Danny. Night time seems to be our stalker's favourite playground. And we already know that she's got your mobile number. She might be tempted to try something new."

"Let her," said Danny shortly. "She won't succeed. And it might be the fastest way of catchin' her."

Mac frowned. "Don't do anything reckless, Danny. Adam's in no position to defend himself."

"Adam won't have to, cos she won't get anywhere near him. It's me who'll do all the defending."

"I mean it. Don't use him as bait. That's an order, Danny."

"Sure thing, boss." The detective shrugged innocently. "We'll probably just get a pizza, watch the game." He smirked as he turned to leave. "There's a t.v. in Adam's room, right?"

"Right." Mac watched him go, unconvinced by the quick change of subject. Danny was fiercely loyal to his friends and a self-confessed magnet for trouble. Maybe he should have sent someone else to the hospital tonight...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"It's so frustrating," sighed Jo. She and Danny were standing outside the door to Adam's room, whilst Danny caught her up on the progress - or rather, _lack_ of progress - in the lab. Adam, meanwhile, continued to sleep, secure in the knowledge that his friends were watching over him. "All of these incidents, each one more scary than the last - and we have _nothing_? Nobody's that good, surely?"

"You would think so." Danny peered in through the doorway. "But we'll get her, Jo. We have to. " He spoke in a casual tone, but there was steel behind his eyes. Like Mac, Jo saw the warning signs and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Play it safe tonight, Danny. Promise me?"

"Hey - I already promised the boss. What, do I have 'idiot' tattooed across my forehead or something? I won't risk his life, Jo. You know that."

She smiled, mollified. "Of course I do, Danny. I'm sorry. Now look at that - I'm starting to sound like Adam."

"Never happen," grinned Danny, as he sloped past her into the room. "Little guy's out there on his own."

"Not on his own tonight," Jo murmured quietly.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Danny turned the volume down as low as he could on the television set, but it wasn't long before a tousled head popped up from the pillow and a croaky voice whispered, "Hello?"

"There you are, buddy," he commented, nonchalantly. "Quit sleepin' and keep me company here. Are you hungry?"

"I... I don't know." Adam considered the question, frowning. "I... oh. Maybe I am." Actually, now that he thought about it, he couldn't even remember the last time that he ate anything. As if in agreement, his belly rumbled noisily. Danny laughed.

"We'll take that as a 'yes'," he decided. "Now, I've sampled hospital food before, and that is definitely a no-go area. So, pizza's on me." He lifted a box from the floor, sending the most tantalizing aroma in Adam's direction. "What do you say?"

"I say 'thank you'," breathed Adam fervently. He tried to raise himself, and Danny leapt up at once to lend his support. Together, they managed to raise his bandaged body further up the bed so that he was almost sitting normally. "Ugh. That's better. If I'm not careful, I'm gonna end up with bedsores all down one side."

"Not pretty," agreed Danny. He tilted his head and studied his friend's appearance with critical eyes. "Man, you look bad. Kind of like a panda that's just had its ass kicked."

"Great. Thank you. Now shut up and give me some of that pizza."

Danny handed him a slice. "Don't get any on the bedclothes, or you're gonna get me thrown out of here."

"Yeah," said Adam solemnly. "Some of those nurses look pretty tough. I reckon they could take you."

"Hehehehehe. Not funny, Ross." Danny turned the volume up a little louder on the t.v. set now that his friend was awake. "So. You wanna watch the game?"

Adam shrugged happily. He didn't really care what was on. Just sitting here, exchanging jokes with his friend, made him feel almost as though he were back in the real world. No crazy stalkers, no bombs, no shredded back. No itch between his shoulder blades... _dammit_. He reached up and tried to scratch it, but his bandages were so stiff that he couldn't even get close.

"Itch?" said Danny, with feeling.

"Yeah." Adam sighed. "I know I need these bandages on, but really, I wish I could rip 'em right off again. I feel like a mummy."

"No can do. And don't you turn those puppy dog eyes on me, cos it won't work. I've seen enough of bandages today to last a lifetime."

Adam's eyes dropped and he turned his face away. Danny was startled by the sudden mood change. "Hey, no, I'm sorry, buddy. I shouldn't have brought that up. Are you ok?"

"Yes. It's fine, Danny. I'm fine." The pizza slice drooped in the little man's hand, and he held it out apologetically. "I... I guess I'm not hungry after all. D-do you mind?"

"Not at all," lied Danny. Trying to hide his concern, he got up to stretch his legs and wandered over to the door.

"You check out any of those pretty nurses, I'm gonna tell Lindsay," offered Adam, with forced humour. He knew that he had upset the man, but the reaction had been so strong and so sudden - like a cold breath on the back of his neck, or a sickly perfume...

"Haha," said Danny absently. He peered down the dimly lit corridor. "Man, it's quiet around here. I thought hospitals never slept."

"Maybe there's some kind of emergency down the hall." Adam slid down the bed again, sighing.

"Sure. That'll be it." Danny wandered back over to his chair. Just as he was about to sit down, there was a quiet _beep_ from his back pocket. The two men stared at each other, startled.

"S'probably just Mac," said Adam bleakly.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right." Danny pulled out his mobile and hesitated. "Mac. Or Linz, checkin' up on me. None of them trust me, you know. Like I'm some kind of loose cannon, when actually I'm a very stable guy..."

Adam shook his head. There was a wild look in his eye. "Come on, Danny," he breathed. "Just read it. You know it's her."

Clenching his jaw, Danny stared down at the message he had just opened. He read it through all the way, twice. Then he closed his eyes in despair and passed the phone over to Adam. The little man took it in his trembling hands. He tried to read it, but the words were swimming in front of his eyes. "I - I can't. Danny, please."

Reluctantly, Danny bent over him. "_'There's a bomb in the hospital',_" he read, his voice a dull monotone. "_'Tell no one. Follow my instructions or I will set it off. Bring him to the service elevator and send him down to the basement. I will be watching.'_"

Adam swallowed. Now that the dreadful something was actually happening, a strange kind of calm had begun to settle over him, as if the numbness in his back was spreading to his brain. Moving the sheets to one side, he tried to swing his legs out of bed. "Help me, Danny," he gasped. "They feel like jelly."

"No. Wait, where are you goin'?" Panic flashed across Danny's face. "You can't do this, Adam; we have to think of something."

Wide blue eyes caught his and held them. "What? What can we think of? She's crazy, Danny, and we have to do what she says. If she killed someone else because of me... I don't think I could live with that."

"But you can't just _go_ to her. That's insane." Danny shook his head. "I'll go. Maybe I can talk to her. Find out what she wants."

"No. It has to be me."

"Then I'll come with you."

"No. I n-need you to find me. Please, will you do that, Danny? Get Mac, and find me?" For one split second, the fear pulsed through him, leaving him breathless. Adam gripped the bed, and hid it.

Danny's mind was racing at a hundred miles an hour as he helped the little man remove his drip and eased him up into a standing position. No matter what scenario he ran through his head, the end was always the same. Discovery, and disaster. Deep down, he had to admit it. Adam was right. "You realise she's probably lying to us," he groaned. "There may not even _be_ a bomb."

"I know that." Adam wobbled on unsteady legs.

"Then you'd be sacrificing yourself for no reason at all."

"I don't care. If there's even the smallest chance that she's telling the truth... what can we do, Danny?"

Danny shook his head. "'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one,'" he muttered.

"What?"

"Oh. Er, nothing."

"Star Trek? Really, Danny?" Adam regarded him sideways. "Sometimes, you're full of surprises."

"Hey, don't mock. I love that movie!" the detective protested.

"Okay, then. So tell me - does that make me Spock or Kirk?"

"Oh, I'm Captain Kirk, all the way. No question. The ladies love me."

Adam looked down and shrugged stiffly. "Then, 'I have been, and always shall be, your friend'," he whispered.

"What?"

"That's what Spock says. In the movie, Wrath of Khan. You know? J-just before he..." Adam gulped, and scrubbed at his eyes fiercely. "Danny, I think we'd better go now."

Leaning heavily on his companion, he started to hobble out of the door. The corridor outside remained deserted but they could hear frantic echoes coming from a room at the farthest point from the elevators. Adam stopped and stared at Danny.

"Surely she couldn't...?"

"Don't over-think it," sighed his friend. "Just move."

Their progress was painfully slow, but still no one challenged them. When they finally reached the service elevator, Adam was almost done in. His breathing was harsh and ragged, and there was sweat pouring down his face. Beneath his hospital gown, Danny could see that the whole man's body was trembling.

"_Please_ let me come with you," he begged.

Adam refused to answer. Instead, he smacked his hand against the 'down' button. The elevator doors opened almost immediately. As they did so, Adam turned and stared at Danny. The look in his eyes was like nothing the detective had ever seen before. It was so intense that it burned itself onto his brain. He did not think that he would ever be able to forget it.

"Adam..."

"Sorry, Danny," croaked the little man. He stepped into the elevator, somehow managing to hold himself stiffly upright until the doors began to close. Just before he vanished completely from sight, Danny saw Adam shudder and fall to his knees. "Find me," he gasped. Then he was gone.

"No!" Danny slammed his fist against the metal doors in absolute horror and impotence. What could he do now? He had no idea if the woman was still watching him, now that he had let Adam go. _I let him go._ The thought slithered into his brain like a serpent, taunting him with his inadequacy. _Guess now I know how Adam felt, when those Irish drug guys made him give up the lab codes. And he held out longer than I did... Why couldn't I think of something?_

_Too late._

_No! It's never too late..._

Galvanized into action all of a sudden, he ducked out of sight of the nearest camera and started to tap a frantic message into his phone. Afraid that his calls were being monitored, he didn't press 'send' when he was finished. Instead, he laid the mobile down on the floor and slid it right across the corridor towards the main desk. Then he darted from blind spot to blind spot until he reached the entrance to the stairwell. Easing the door open, he slipped through. With one deep breath to spur himself on, he began to pound down the stairs, round and round, faster and faster, until he was almost sick with dizziness. As he ran, he prayed to God that he hadn't waited too long...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**A/N:** Apologies for the Trekkiness. I kept taking it out, and it kept jumping right back in there, as if it wanted to stay. So I let it...


	10. Chapter 10

**EASY TARGET**

**Chapter Ten**

Time slowed down.

For the first time since this whole nightmare began, Adam felt truly alone. No Mac, no Jo, no Danny. Just one frightened lab rat who had tried to be the hero.

What on earth was he thinking?

Adam crouched on his hands and knees, shaking uncontrollably as the elevator continued its inexorable descent. The grey metal walls closed in, and claustrophobia threatened to overwhelm him until suddenly, lifting his eyes, he caught sight of another figure after all - his own pitiful reflection. Like a slap to the face, it shocked him out of his panic attack.

_That's quite enough of that,_ said the jeering little voice inside his head. _Get up, Ross, and don't be such a coward. Or do you want them to drag you out of here on your knees?_

Reaching up to the handrail for support, Adam hauled himself clumsily to his feet. The pain in his back was already beginning to return, now that his drip had gone, but he clenched his teeth and ignored it.

"I work for the New York Crime Lab," he whispered stubbornly to himself, like a mantra of hope. "I solve crimes for a living. One day, I'm going to be a real CSI. My friends work there too, and they care about me. They do care, and they're gonna come and find me..."

_If I can stay alive long enough..._

_Going down to meet my doom in nothing but Spiderman boxers and a hospital gown._

_That's just terrific..._

Adam let out a high-pitched nervous giggle. At the same time, the service elevator slowed, and shuddered, and stopped. Backing against the far wall, he stared at the doors with frightened eyes.

_Wish I had a weapon. Or something. Anything..._

_Wish Danny was still here._

The doors slid open to reveal an empty wheelchair.

"Take a seat, Adam," said a quiet voice - the very voice that he had been dreading all the way down. He could smell her musky perfume even now, creeping into the elevator like a harbinger of doom. Blinking fiercely, he edged forwards, holding the doors open as a last, desperate means of escape. The basement corridor was dark, and cluttered with storage boxes.

"N-no, thank you," he ventured quietly, surprised that his own voice was even working. "I don't think I want to."

She stepped into the light and, for the first time, he saw her face to face. She was a small woman, with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and features so ordinary that nothing about them stood out as remarkable. It was a face impossible to hold in your memory. The perfect face for crime. Staring at it now, Adam hated it.

"I'm sorry - I didn't mean to imply that you had a choice." The woman raised her hand, which was holding a tiny pistol. _How did I miss that?_ the little man wondered.

Stiffly, he lowered himself into the wheelchair. The pressure on his back was agony, and he couldn't help letting out a hiss of pain. The woman only smiled. Producing a handful of zip ties from her pocket, she passed him one. "Fasten yourself to the arm," she instructed, gesturing with the gun.

Adam considered refusing again, but he didn't really like the look in her eye. It was ruthless, and utterly controlled. So he slipped the tie around the arm of the chair, threading it loosely before sliding his hand through the loop. The woman reached down and yanked it tight. Now that he was secure, she laid down the gun and fastened his other arm in the same way to the other side of the wheelchair. The ties cut into his wrists with their hard plastic edges. Adam was afraid to pull on them, so he sat as still as he could. Sweat ran down his forehead from the throbbing pain in his back, making his eyes sting. "There is no bomb in the hospital, is there?" he demanded. "You made that up."

"Of course I did. How crazy do you think I am? But of course, you couldn't take the chance. And so you came down here, all alone, like the good little boy that you are. Easy target."

"Stop calling me that!" snapped Adam.

"Oh - so you _can_ bite back." She sniffed and walked behind him, out of sight. "I call you that because that's what you are. And yet, over and over again, your friends come to rescue you. Why is that, Adam Ross? What makes you so special?"

"Nothing," he muttered. "I never said I was special. In fact, I'm anything but. They come because they're good people. They'd do the same for anyone."

"Oh," said the even voice, "would they?"

Adam shook his head in despair. "Look," he cried, "this is ridiculous. Why can't you just let me go? I'm sure that I've never done anything to you. I don't even know who you are, for pity's sake. Whatever this crazy grudge is, can't we just sort it out?" Rising, he tried to turn and face her, but his bound arms made it impossible. The woman laid a hand on his shoulder and slammed him back down into the seat. She was stronger than he had bargained for, a wiry strength that he did not fancy testing.

"Be quiet!" she ordered him. Without any warning, the gun came down hard against the back of his head. Adam's world reeled. Dimly, he could feel the woman cover him with a blanket, hiding the ties that held him in place. His vision grew blurry, and his head lolled heavily to one side.

"That's better," said the quiet voice, crawling into his dreams as he finally lost consciousness.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Danny had almost reached the bottom of the stairs when he spun round a corner and fell headlong over an unexpected figure. The two bodies rolled in an awkward tangle down the last remaining steps, where they landed hard on the concrete floor, Danny uppermost. For a moment, neither man spoke, as the wind had been knocked right out of them by the fall. Eventually, Danny recovered enough breath to offer his apologies.

"Hey, man, I'm so sorry. That was totally my fault," he wheezed. "Are you okay?"

The orderly glared up at him. He was a round little man, with a pock-marked face and wispy hair that made him look uncannily like a startled infant, just waking up from its nap. There was nothing babyish about his language, however, when he finally managed to give vent to his feelings. Danny reeled back, disgusted.

"No call for that. I said I was sorry. What are you doin' down here, anyway, lurking like that?"

"My job," said the round man, sulkily. "Carrying supplies. What are _you_ doing here? Public ain't allowed in the hospital basement, in case you don't know. That means you're trespassing. Maybe I get you kicked out, hey, clumsy man? Then you really will be sorry."

Danny shook his head. He didn't have time for this craziness. Flipping his shirt up, he pulled out his badge and shoved it in the orderly's mottled face. "I got every right to be here," he said, loftily. "Now get up and leave. I'm on a case." He rolled off the orderly, who clambered to his feet and made a great show of dusting himself down before hoisting himself up the stairs, one limping step at a time. "Overactor," muttered Danny, rudely.

Moving over to the door, he laid his fingers on the handle and held his breath. To his great relief, it moved down when he pushed it. The door opened silently, just a crack, and he held it in position carefully as he peered through the gap.

The corridor beyond lay in semi-darkness. As his eyes grew accustomed to the different light, Danny could just make out two figures, one standing, one seated in what seemed to be some kind of chair. The moment they started to move towards him, he realised what he was seeing. "Adam," he groaned, under his breath. "Where you goin', man?"

Closing the doorway, he waited for them to pass by. The woman's footsteps grew louder and then receded. Counting to thirty, he eased open the door once more and started to tiptoe down the corridor, keeping a safe distance. The seated figure, the one that could only be his friend, never moved or spoke a single word. The back of Danny's neck crawled at the thought of what she might have done to him, but he pushed the images away, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He couldn't slip up now. Not again. Adam was counting on him.

A sudden noise behind him made him spin round in alarm - only to find a gun pointed right at his face.

"Got you, clumsy man," sneered the orderly.


	11. Chapter 11

**EASY TARGET**

I've just corrected a glaring error in this chapter that my friend noticed and I failed to spot. As I'm still learning how this site works, I hope the correction comes through (it was driving me mad once I knew about it) and if this comes up as a new chapter, I apologise - there will be another chapter up later today. If you spotted the error - well done! If you didn't - phew!

**Chapter Eleven**

Mac had to admit it - Adam was right. His couch really _was_ too small to sleep on for any length of time. After an uncomfortable hour of tossing and turning, he was close to giving up. He didn't really want to disturb Jo at her home in the middle of the night, but his sleep pattern over the last few days had been atrocious. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he swung to his feet and stretched his aching limbs.

He was just heading out of the door when his mobile phone began to ring in his pocket. It startled him, and he glanced at the clock. One thirty. Whoever was calling him at this hour, it couldn't be good. Pulling out his phone, he answered it quickly.

"Mac Taylor."

"Detective Taylor? Oh, thank goodness. This is Nurse Ellis. We met earlier at the hospital?"

The hospital. Mac tensed.

"Yes. I remember." A dark-haired woman with a generous smile. He had liked her straight away. "How can I help you, Nurse Ellis?"

"We... er. We have a problem here." There was a poorly concealed note of panic in the woman's voice, as though she didn't know quite how to say what she needed to say. Mac tried to help her out.

"A problem. With Adam? Is he worse?"

"I... I don't know." The poor woman sounded close to tears. "I'm afraid he's missing."

Silence. Mac considered the possibilities and tried to remain optimistic. "Maybe he's gone for a walk, to stretch his legs. I'll call my Detective."

"No. You can't. That's the other thing, you see," gasped the nurse. "We have his phone."

Mac was confused. "Adam? He didn't have a phone."

"Not Mr. Ross. Detective Messer. We found it on the floor by the nurses' station, not five minutes ago. There... there was a message left open and unsent. A message for you." He heard a beep on the other end, as she keyed the screen back up and began to read.

"'If you find this, please call Mac Taylor, New York Crime Lab. Adam taken. Messer following. Service elevator to basement. Danny on stairs. Threat of bomb in hospital - may be hoax. S.O.S.'" Nurse Ellis faltered. "The moment we saw the word 'bomb', we had to react to the threat. Mobile patients are being evacuated even as we speak, and we are trying to determine whether or not the threat is real before we clear the whole hospital. But I took a moment to check Mr. Ross's room - and there was nobody to be found. His drip is pulled out, yet there's no blood or sign of a struggle."

"And nobody saw them leave?" The steely note in Mac's voice was terrifying.

"N-no. We had an emergency down the hall. A bad one - life or death. All hands on deck."

Mac took a deep breath and controlled his anger with an effort. After all, a hospital was not a police station. Their job was saving lives, not guarding people. That had been Danny's job.

_Oh, Danny._

_What have you done?_

"Thank you, Nurse Ellis," Mac told the frightened woman. "You acted quickly and I'm grateful for your call. None of this is your fault. I'm only sorry that our situation has put your whole hospital in danger. Get back to your evacuation. I'm on my way."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Adam. Adam? Come on, buddy, wake up. You're freakin' me out over here."

Danny stared hopelessly at the body on the bed. Adam's face was beyond white, and his breathing was erratic. He hadn't moved at all . Even so, his hands were tied to the bed post, just as Danny's were to the back of the chair in which he was sitting. _As if he's any kind of threat,_ thought Danny, full of bitterness.

They had left the hospital by way of an old emergency exit, lost behind boxes and dust in the cluttered basement. To passers-by, they looked like nothing more than a patient in a wheelchair and his escort - a doctor, an orderly and a worried friend. Inside, Danny was churning. He longed to lash out; disarm the man and tackle the woman. Free Adam and save the day. But the orderly's gun jabbed sharply into his side, whilst the woman kept her own weapon hidden behind Adam's head. And yet again, there was nothing that he could do.

In the loneliest corner of the hospital parking lot, they came to a small, white van. Taking out a pocket knife, the woman removed Adam's blanket, then reached forward and cut the ties from his arms. At the same time, the orderly yanked open the back doors of the van. "Help your friend," he smirked, revelling in his new-found power. "Before I throw him in there myself."

So Danny was forced to drag Adam's limp body out of the wheelchair and lay it down as carefully as he could on the cold van floor. "I'm sorry," he whispered in the little man's ear. "Some rescue this is."

They strapped his arms behind his back and pushed him in beside Adam. Unable to catch himself, he jarred his shoulder badly. By the time he had recovered, the woman had slammed the doors shut and locked them. Seconds later, the two kidnappers clambered into the front seats and the orderly started the engine. "Hold on tight," he carolled, gleefully. "Could be a bumpy ride."

Closing his eyes, Danny tried to keep track of where they were going. But the twists and turns of the New York city streets soon lost him completely. Somehow, it always seemed so much simpler in the movies. Easy clues and landmarks, to help the hero find his way. _Guess I'm no hero, then,_ sighed Danny. Rolling over, he opened his eyes and stared at Adam instead. The back of the lab tech's head was matted with blood where the woman had hit him. _That'll be another killer headache when he wakes up. Poor guy,_ thought his friend, with sympathy.

Eventually, the van drew to a halt and the engine sputtered into silence. Danny was dragged out into a quiet residential street, where every curtain was closed and every house looked midnight-dark and uninviting. Untying his hands, they forced him to lift up Adam, who was semi-conscious by now, and steer him groggily up the steps and through the front door of the nearest house. To Danny's surprise, it seemed like a perfectly normal abode - tall and thin, neatly furnished - the sort of home he could imagine for himself and Lindsay one day, as the perfect place to raise little Lucy. Before him marched the woman, cold and self-possessed. Behind him marched the orderly, still jabbing at him with the gun every now and then, as if to prove a highly unnecessary point. Together, they staggered up four flights of stairs until they reached the attic. There, his arms were secured once more as the orderly strapped him to a heavy chair in one corner of the room. Adam, they threw carelessly on the bed, and then fastened him in a similar way, his arms yanked above his shoulders in a manner that would probably feel excruciating when he awoke.

_If he wakes up._ Danny struggled anxiously, rubbing the zip tie against his bleeding wrists. The effort of climbing up all those stairs had clearly taken its toll on the little man, and he had not moved a muscle since he landed. Inch by inch, Danny rocked the chair across the room until he was close enough to study Adam's face. "Adam. Come on, man. Make me smile. Just open your eyes."

A tiny frown flickered across the lab tech's forehead. Danny caught his breath. "Adam. I know you're in there. Stop bein' lazy. It's time to wake up." He sighed. "I promise you can yell at me all you want."

"Wha..? Danny?" Adam opened his eyes to a serious case of deja vu, as Danny's anxious face loomed over him.

"Oh, thank God," groaned the detective. "I thought you were givin' up on me there, buddy. Stay awake for me now, okay?"

Adam shifted on the bed, trying to roll over into a more comfortable position. When he realised that he couldn't move his arms, he began to panic. "Help me," he croaked. "Why are you just sitting there? Get me out of this."

"Sorry - no can do." Danny pulled on his own bonds, and understanding dawned in Adam's eyes.

"You were supposed to get Mac," the little man accused him.

"I know that. And I tried. I sent a message. But I couldn't just leave you to go down there all by yourself. It was drivin' me crazy."

Adam closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, a tiny smile lit his pallid face. "I'm glad," he said, roughly. "I didn't like being alone."

Relief washed over Danny, as he let go of a guilt that he didn't even know he had been carrying. "Then you're not going to yell at me?"

"Not right now. Maybe later. Do you know where we are?" Adam brushed his head against the pillow and winced. "Dammit - why did she have to hit me so hard? I wasn't going anywhere."

"Clearly she was afraid of your awesome strength and cunning," grinned Danny.

"Oh, ha ha." Adam's gaze shifted from his friend's face, as he caught sight of something on the wall beyond. "Danny? What's that? Where _are _we?"

"In someone's old bedroom, I think. Up in the attic of a brownstone. Fourth floor." Danny craned his neck round, trying to catch a glimpse of what Adam was staring at. "Oh. Crap! Adam, what the hell is going on?"

To both men's horror, the wall was plastered with photographs of Adam. And every one of them had been taken at the lab.


	12. Chapter 12

**EASY TARGET**

**A/N:** This site doesn't seem to wake up until after breakfast. Two of the most recent chapters were uploaded early in the day, and they ended up with the wrong date on them! Sorry if that confused you.

Thanks again for the awesome reviews, follows, etc. I've just about caught myself up as far as this story is concerned but I'll try to keep the chapters coming on a daily basis if I can. Right now, it's time for...

**Chapter Twelve**

"How are you holding up?"

Jo stuck her head around the door to check on Lindsay. The older woman's face was concerned, but the tightness around her eyes suggested that she, too, was struggling with the whole situation. Lindsay shrugged. Knees tucked up to her chest, she perched on the bottom step, pretending to search through her kit . In reality, she hadn't moved for the last ten minutes. A tell-tale flush spread across her cheeks as she looked up at her colleague. "I'm okay."

"Mmm. So I can see. Want any help? Mac and Sheldon are checking out the area in and around the service elevator. In fact, they're concentrating so hard that they didn't even notice when I left."

"Thanks. I actually think I may have found something useful here." Lindsay forced herself to move, and stood up briskly, clutching a swab that she had pulled from her cluttered case. She gestured with her other hand. "Scuff marks, from rubber soles. A button, with broken thread. And..." she swallowed. "A smear of blood on the floor. I think that something happened here quite recently. Didn't Mac say that Danny took the stairs?" She stared at the blood, and tried to control her emotions, but it was hard. She hated not knowing where he was, or what had happened to him. "I wish we had got in here sooner."

"Can't be helped. Look on the bright side," suggested Jo. "At least the bomb threat wasn't real. Otherwise, it could have taken us days to get in - and the evidence would all have been destroyed."

"I know that." Lindsay gave a heavy sigh and crouched down, stroking at the smear of blood with her swab. Testing it, she found that it was definitely human. Not that she had any doubts. Jo studied the black marks on the floor, frowning deeply.

"If you ask me," she said at last, "I'd say there was an accident here. Danny would have been running - desperate to catch up with the elevator before he lost Adam completely. What if he went too fast? And maybe there was someone on the stairs?"

Lindsay groaned in dismay. "Then we're chasing a dead end. The blood probably belongs to a hospital employee."

"Yes..." Jo's eyes gleamed. "An employee who was lurking near the basement, in the middle of the night." She lifted her camera and began to take detailed shots of the scuff marks. "Rubber soles and a regulation button. Maybe a janitor, or an orderly? Perhaps our mystery woman had some help. After all, Adam may not be trained in how to defend himself, but your husband certainly is. How could one small woman overpower them both? Even if she had serious kung fu skills - which I doubt - that's quite a challenge."

"Don't ask me questions like that. I've been running through alternatives in my mind - and none of them are pleasant." Lindsay smiled grimly. "But I like your theory. It makes more sense. And it gives us something new to focus on."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The service elevator was a jumbled mess of prints - on the handrail, on the walls, and even on the floor, where two full palm prints splayed out in sharp relief beneath the UV filter. No doubt, thought Sheldon, some of these will belong to Adam. But if he came down by himself, what else is there to find? Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine how the little lab tech must have been feeling - sinking inexorably towards his fate, alone and afraid. A shiver ran down the doctor's spine, and he pushed the thought away quickly. Evidence. That was what he needed to concentrate upon. Watching Mac, he marvelled at the man's self-control, as his boss stared down the corridor with quiet determination, following the light from his torch.

"There are wheel tracks here," Mac commented at last, sensing Sheldon's eyes upon him. "And footprints in the dust. Lucky for us, no one uses this place very much. Our stalker may have made her first mistake. If I had to guess, I'd say that, after she lured Adam down here with her bomb threat, she took him away in a wheelchair."

"That's smart," nodded Sheldon. "Easy to control him if he's sitting down in front of her. Maybe she tied him up - or knocked him unconscious." He tried to pretend that it wasn't his own friend he was talking about. "Can you tell where the tracks are leading?"

"Yes," said Mac. "I can." Taking care not to obliterate their precious evidence, he side-stepped along the corridor, following the uneven trail. After a moment, he paused. "There are three sets of footprints here now. All different sizes - and one set could definitely belong to Danny."

"Then he isn't tailing her. She's caught him too." Sheldon frowned. "But what about the third set of prints?"

"I think that we can answer that," said Jo's voice warmly, as she poked her head out of a nearby doorway. "The woman may have an accomplice. Probably someone on the hospital payroll. Lindsay's upstairs right now, asking for records of all their current staff."

"That's good work." Mac began his complex dance once again, and they followed him at a careful distance. The trail led all the way down the corridor - and there they found the old emergency exit. It had been left slightly ajar, as if the kidnappers hadn't bothered to check behind them but had simply trusted it to close all by itself. Sheldon lifted his UV light once again, to focus on the handle of the door.

"Got you," said Mac, with feeling.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Danny and Adam studied the pictures in silence for several minutes. There were at least thirty of them, and it was clear that they had been taken over a number of years. It was also clear that the subject of the photographs had no idea that they were being taken - as Adam himself confirmed, in a horrified whisper. There were shots of him working, and talking to his friends. There were shots of him walking down the corridor. Adam throwing paper aeroplanes. Adam goofing around. And one particularly poignant shot of the lab tech sitting, head in his hands, alone in the dimly lit locker room. "When was that?" asked Danny curiously.

Adam shook his head. "Oh... I don't remember," he lied. In fact, he remembered it all too well. The letter containing his dismissal two years ago, and the terrible sense of impending doom that had haunted him for weeks - until he realised exactly what his colleagues had done to save his job. "Maybe I was just tired."

"Sure," said Danny, regarding him with that sideways, knowing gaze that always made Adam nervous. The man was far too sharp. It wasn't fair. Quickly, he changed the subject.

"Why do you suppose they took all of these?"

"Really?" Danny stifled a laugh, as it seemed so unkind in the circumstances. "You can't think of a reason? I know you're a goofball, Adam, but I never took you for naive."

Adam flushed. "But - this person must have been working alongside me for years. If they felt that way - why didn't they say something? I'm a nice guy. Ask anyone. I'd have been flattered."

"Especially if they were cute?" smirked Danny.

"Whatever they looked like," scowled Adam. "I'm no oil painting."

"Well, not at the moment," his friend said blithely. "But you do have a certain geeky charm. An' don't take that the wrong way," he added. "I'm just saying."

Adam tested his bonds absently. "So you're telling me that this is all about unrequited love? Doesn't that seem a little bit... extreme?"

"Not if you're the one who's feeling rejected." Danny considered. "But I know what you mean. All these things that this woman's done to you - they're more like an act of hatred. So bitter and extreme that they leave a nasty taste in your mouth. And besides, I've seen her face and so have you. She never worked in the lab, I'm sure of it. We're missing a part of the puzzle here. Do you have _any_ idea who might have taken these pictures? Look closely."

"Oh, right. I'll just snap these ties and leap up off this bed. Danny, I think we've already established that I'm _not_ a super-hero."

"Okay," said Danny patiently, "then do your best. Surely your eyesight isn't quite that bad. Or have all those computer screens fried your retinas?"

Adam winced. He knew that Danny was only trying to keep his spirits up by goading him with banter. But the little man's nerves were raw, and he was very close to snapping. "Fine," he grumbled tightly. "I'll do my best. Move out of the way."

He pushed past the pounding in his head and screwed up his eyes, staring as hard as he could at the scattered array. So many lab techs had come and gone in the past few years, dissatisfied with the long hours and the lack of job security that had arisen since the budget crisis. Even Kendall, his good friend and onetime secret crush had moved on to a private lab, where her career could advance more successfully. So many faces, and so many names - he was shocked to realise that he couldn't remember half of them accurately. Most of the time, Adam retreated into his own quirky little world when he was processing evidence. Social interaction was an ongoing trial to him, in spite of his desperate need to please. He wanted to be friendly but he knew that, often, his nervous over-exuberance made him a figure of fun. The friends that he _had_ managed to acquire - including the CSIs - seemed to tolerate it more than embrace it, watching him with amused expressions as he tied himself up in verbal or emotional knots; waiting for him to sort himself out and get to the point. Thinking about that, Adam tried to picture if anyone had been more reticent, studying him from a distance and never taking part in the mockery. He forced his memory out into the shadows, beyond the circle of popular characters.

And one face stared back at him.


	13. Chapter 13

**EASY TARGET**

**Chapter Thirteen**

Danny watched Adam's face curiously, charting the expressions that danced across it. "You know something," he said at last. "Don't you?"

"I'm not sure." Closing his eyes, Adam shifted uncomfortably. However he tried to positon himself on the bed, he could not get rid of the ache that tormented his body. A chill ran up his spine and he shuddered. The attic room was unheated and the night was very cold. Not for the first time, Adam wished that he had taken time to grab his own clothes before heading off to try and be a hero.

"Hey, that's not fair. We're in this together. Tell me what you're thinking - I won't mock."

Adam opened his eyes again and stared at his friend unhappily. "It just seems so stupid. That someone so gentle could be the cause of all this... rage. But I can't get rid of her face now it's popped in my head."

"Okay." Danny shrugged. "A face. That's good. So who are we talkin' about?"

"Carey Miller."

The detective did a double-take.

"Carey Miller? But Jo checked her out already. The picture on my phone was taken from a shelf in her empty locker. We assumed it was just a coincidence."

"Why?" croaked Adam.

"Because Carey Miller has been at her parents' home in Florida ever since she lost her job a month ago."

Now it was Adam's turn to look surprised. "She lost her job? I... I didn't even notice." He frowned. "That's terrible, isn't it?"

"Of course not. The lab's a big place, Adam. We're not expected to be on intimate terms with everyone who works there."

Adam shook his head, feeling the weight of all those pictures staring down at him. Behind each one, unnoticed and invisible, he imagined the face of Carey Miller as she stole another moment of his life. "I know that. Of course I do. But she was there, Danny, all the time, and I barely spoke to her."

"She didn't speak to you either."

"She... I think she may have tried." He swallowed nervously. Danny waited. When nothing more was forthcoming, he gave a gentle nudge.

"What did she do?"

Adam closed his eyes again, and remembered.

_Christmas Eve. Sitting alone in the AV lab, nursing a contraband mug of lemon and ginger tea. Adam's eyes were streaming and his head was stuffed with cotton wool. But he couldn't go home. There was so much left to do, and Mac was counting on him. In Adam's fevered imagination, he saw the boss's face on every side, so vividly that he jumped whenever somebody passed by._

_Except for Carey Miller._

_She stood in the doorway, watching him quietly with that brown-eyed, quizzical expression of hers that never seemed to change. When Adam turned to check out something at another terminal, he caught a glimpse of her, and jumped. One hand flailed against his mug and the tea went crashing wildly to the floor._

_"Oh my God," he gasped. "I'm going to get into so much trouble. That's exactly the reason they don't allow drinks in here..."_

_He yanked off his top shirt and crouched down to mop at the spill. At first, he thought that Carey had left him to it - until she reappeared at his side with a bucket and a cloth, and a conspiratorial smile. "No one saw me," she whispered. "They'll never know. I promise. Besides, it's my fault. I startled you."_

_"No, no. I shouldn't have had it in the first place. My throat was just so sore..."_

_Delicately, Carey began to pick at the scattered shards. "You shouldn't be here, Adam. You should be at home, curled up on the couch in a blanket, watching some sentimental Christmas movie."_

_"I know it." He looked down, feeling ridiculous. "I just can't seem to help myself."_

_One small hand reached out to comfort him. At the same time, Carey put out her other hand to steady herself - and then drew back, hissing sharply. A bright red drop of blood welled out and mingled with the hot tea on the floor. Clutching at her palm, the young girl refused to catch Adam's eye._

_"What happened?" Glancing around, he caught sight of the broken handle, sharper than a dagger. "Oh Carey - I'm so sorry."_

_"No. No, it's fine." She scrambled to her feet and all but ran to the door. "I... I'll just go and see to this. M..Merry Christmas, Adam. Be happy."_

_Be happy. Adam watched her leave, feeling oddly unsettled. What could she mean by that?_

"What _did_ she mean?" asked Danny, leaning in as far as his bonds would let him. There was a rapt look on his face.

"Never took you for a romantic," Adam muttered, turning crimson. "I don't know, Danny. Perhaps she thought I was lonely. Stuck in the lab on Christmas Eve - it's a pretty fair assumption."

"Or maybe she knew more about you than you realised."

"Yeah - my very own stalker. Turns out I attract them. That's just great."

Wary of the bleak note in Adam's voice, Danny steered the conversation in a different direction. "So, did she ever try and speak to you again? Did _you_ speak to _her_?"

"I... I guess I didn't. I mean... I asked her if her hand was okay. She wore a bandage for a while, I remember that. But I think she was still embarrassed. She just mumbled an excuse and slipped away. I- well, I know what that's like. So I left her. I didn't think twice about it after that."

"Two geeks in love," grinned Danny.

"I'm not in love," said Adam, stiffly. "And this..." He nodded towards the photographs. "This isn't love either. It's obsession. How would _you_ like it, Danny? Truly?"

"I'd be flattered." Adam glared at him, shaming him into honesty. "Okay, okay, I'd be freaked. It isn't healthy. But let's face it, Lindsay would never let anyone get this close."

"True enough." The little man turned away. "I wish I had someone like that looking out for me."

"You do, Adam, you fool. Don't you realise that? What do you think we've all been doing these past few days? Taking a vacation?"

Danny regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. A strange, muffled hiccup came from over on the bed. Adam's face was buried in the pillow but, by the shaking of his shoulders, Danny could tell that the crisis had come at last. All the pent up pain and terror had finally burst through the lab tech's barriers, and he simply couldn't hold it back any longer. "Buddy," his friend whispered, devastated. "Please. We'll get you out of this. You know we will. Mac'll find us, if it's the last thing he does. And woe betide those two lunatics when he gets here."

"Now that's not a nice way to talk about anyone," said a cold voice from the doorway.


	14. Chapter 14

**EASY TARGET**

**Chapter Fourteen**

Danny glared at the woman.

"Seems like a pretty accurate description to me. Or do you think it's sane to torture someone like this?" He nodded his head towards Adam, who was still shivering in distress and trying to choke down his sobs. The woman followed Danny's gaze scornfully.

"I have my reasons."

"Yeah - well, you know what? I'd really like to know what _those_ are. 'Cos I don't think you've thought this through at all. You're in serious trouble, lady. Who in their right mind messes with the New York Crime Lab, of all places? And Adam? The man's an innocent. What the hell did he ever do to you?"

The woman turned back to stare at him with a look that sent ice-water shuddering through his veins. It was exactly the sort of look that someone might give to a cockroach, before they stepped on it. "Do you want to know what _I_ think? I think you should stop talking now. This has nothing to do with you, Detective Messer."

"Could have fooled me," muttered Danny. "What am I doin' here, then?"

"I never invited you." The woman shook her head. "You crashed this party. Now it's time to leave." As she spoke, another figure sidled round the doorway. It was her baby-faced friend, and he was looking particularly pleased with himself. "Roland will escort you."

Furious, Danny jerked at the ties around his wrists. The chair bucked beneath him, but he could not break loose. Adam watched him with enormous eyes. "Danny! Don't do that. He'll hurt you."

"You think I care about that?" growled his friend, between clenched teeth.

"Oh, you should." The woman looked smug. "Roland has a nasty temper. And I really don't think he likes you."

"Danny," said Adam again. "Please!"

Stepping across the room, the woman pulled her gun out and held it close to Adam's temple. "Listen to your friend," she advised Danny, as Adam's face blanched and his expression became frighteningly blank.

"Fine," the detective snarled. "Then you'd better just get on with it."

Roland disappeared behind him. Seconds later, he felt the ties snap apart. Pulling his hands forward, he stared at his damaged wrists, which were scarred and bloody. An unexpected sound made him look up again, as the woman gave an involuntary gasp.

"What?" he challenged her. "That upsets you? And yet you can pick the stitches out of a wounded man's back and leave him to bleed to death? Like I said before - you're crazy, lady."

"Get him out of here," she snapped, turning her face to the wall.

With a strength born of brutality, Roland yanked him off his seat and pushed him towards the door. "Adam," hissed Danny, urgently. "Listen to me, buddy. Don't give up, okay? I give you my word, we'll get out of this."

"Sure, Danny." The lab tech's voice was little more than a dull whisper. Danny's heart was close to breaking as he stumbled towards the stairs. The door slammed shut behind them and he heard a key being turned in the lock.

"Don't worry about _him_," said Roland maliciously in his ear. The sharp point of a knife tickled Danny's neck, making him gasp. "You're the one in trouble right now, clumsy man."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Left alone with the woman who had made his whole life a misery in just a matter of days, Adam gathered together what was left of his shredded nerves and tried to hoist himself up against the metal bedpost by twisting his arms to the side and pulling against his ties. The wounds on his back protested, but somehow he no longer cared. Pain occupied so much of his body now that he had almost grown immune to it. Deep inside his head, alarm bells went off, warning him that this probably wasn't a good thing. Adam ignored them. What else could he do?

"So," he croaked, trying to keep his voice steady. "You've got me where you want me, I guess. Now what?"

She sat down on Danny's chair and stared at him.

"Now we talk."

Adam blinked.

"Are you kidding me? If you just wanted to have a conversation, why couldn't you pick up the phone? I mean... I know you _use__d_ a phone, 'cos of the messages... but... well, doesn't it seem a bit over the top to you?" He tried out a nervous smile. Maybe charm was his best offensive. _Because, let's face it, I don't really have much else going for me right now..._ Shifting his swollen wrists uncomfortably, Adam stared at his captor and hoped that somewhere, deep inside, was a remnant of compassion.

"My God, you really do go on, don't you? I can't imagine what she ever saw in you."

"You mean Carey Miller." Looking at the woman now in the early light of dawn, he could finally see it. Something around the eyes, and in the tilt of her head. "She... she's your sister?"

The woman brought the gun up again, but this time it was trembling in her hand. She pointed it at his heart. "Yes, she's my sister. Why else would I be doing this for her?"

"But I still don't understand," he cried out desperately. "What _are_ you doing? Carey isn't like this. She's gentle, and kind. Anyone could see that."

"Could they?" The woman's hand steadied and she leaned in, spitting her words in his face. "Then why didn't they? Why didn't they see what was going on? Why didn't _you_?"

"I... what?"

"She loved you - and you ignored her. She worked hard - and they fired her. No one stepped in to save her. Not like you." She sneered. "Little Adam Ross, _so_ special. Given _his_ notice, and everyone leaps to protect him. Breaks the rules and only gets a three day suspension. Adam Ross, who can't do any wrong. Taylor's little favourite, Taylor's little pet. What makes _you_ any better than my sister?"

"H-how do you know about all that?" Pushing past his shock at her bitter reaction, Adam tried to make sense of what he was hearing.

Leaping to her feet, the woman swept around the bed and yanked open a drawer in Carey's dresser. "Because of this," she told him, pulling out a well-worn notebook and throwing it down on the bed beside him. "I found it. And I read it all. Every word that she wrote, every thought that she had. I shared it."

"Carey's diary," guessed Adam, a horrible suspicion worming its way into his mind.

The woman nodded, sliding down onto the floor and leaning her head against the wall. She turned away from him, radiating disgust with her whole body. "Study it," she told him. "Examine it, like all you crime lab people do. Then you'll understand."

_How am I supposed to do that?_ thought Adam, nervously. _With my toes? _Afraid to ask for help, he used one knee to nudge the tattered book closer to his hands, and then stretched out as far as he could, straining his shoulder badly against the bed post. His fingers tickled at the edge of the diary. With one last, painful effort, he managed to drag it within reach. Now he could turn the pages. Stealing one more sideways look at Carey's sister, who seemed to have gone into some kind of self-pitying trance, he blinked the last of the tears from his burning eyes and began to read...


	15. Chapter 15

**EASY TARGET**

**A/N: **Without wanting to give away too much in advance, please be aware that this chapter mentions suicide. If this is likely to upset you, please don't read on.

Thanks go to the wonderful and all-knowing Wikipedia for some of the dates in Carey's journal.

**Chapter Fifteen**

_October 19th 2006_

_Started work today. Will I ever find my way around? It's like a Hall of Mirrors, full of glass walls and white-coated strangers. The boss is very hard to read. His name is Detective Taylor, and he really makes me nervous. The first time he asked me to run some evidence, I could hardly speak. I don't know if he was amused or just embarrassed. I bet he's starting to wonder why he hired me. Must do better._

Adam looked up, startled. Carey's description was an almost perfect echo of his own first day on the job. He had been hired to replace a young lab tech named Zack Shannon, and (in his own paranoid mind), he knew that everyone was judging him in comparison to his predecessor who, by all accounts, had been brilliant at his job. As for Mac - years of experience had taught him exactly nothing about reading that wry expression. No wonder Carey was quiet. The guilt that had already begun to nestle within him began to grow. Had he helped her even once?

_October 30th 2006_

_I think I might have made a friend at last. He's a funny little guy, and he seems nearly as nervous as I am although I think he must have been here for almost a year. Today I saw him jump out of his skin when Dr. Hawkes tapped him on the shoulder. His pen flew out of his hand and landed all the way across the room, right next to me. He's always playing with that pen. Maybe it gives him something to do with his hands, which are never still. I don't know why he's so nervous. Everyone seems to like him. I picked up the Sharpie and took it back to him. He thanked me and smiled. When I asked him, he told me his name was Adam. We didn't really speak much after that, but I think that he must be a kind man. He has lovely eyes. I hope we can be friends. It's lonely here._

Flipping through the first few pages, Adam realised that most of the entries were very similar. Dated randomly, they charted Carey's wary attempts to fit in to everyday life at the crime lab. Gradually, as he skimmed the words, he found his name cropping up more and more until he came to an entry that made him stop in his tracks.

_February 7th 2007_

_I learnt something awful today. And I did it by eavesdropping, which I'm really not proud of. But I couldn't help it. I was walking by the AV lab when I heard them talking - Adam and his two CSI friends. He cares about them, I can tell, but they don't know a thing about him. They looked so surprised when he told them his secret. And he tried to hide how he felt, but I saw it in his eyes. My dad was a bully too, but he left us. I guess we were lucky. Poor Adam. I wish I could comfort him. I left a present on his desk later that day. I hope it cheered him up._

And another tiny piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Two brand new Sharpies in vibrant colours, sitting on a handwritten note. "For Adam. From a friend. Because your old one is chewed to pieces." He never had discovered where they came from. In fact, after the incident with the security footage, he rather suspected Stella or, at the very least, Danny. They were always making fun of his pen-chewing habit. But Carey? Was every little unexplained moment in his work-life going to come back to her?

_November 5th 2008_

_There's a terrible sense of doom in the lab today. They've started sending out letters of dismissal. Something to do with the budget crisis, I suppose. I'm terrified that one of them will be for me. So far I seem to be safe. But that's not the worst thing. He's got one. Adam. I saw him waiting in Detective Taylor's office this morning, so I listened through the wall. I couldn't stop myself. I had to know what was wrong with him. Now he's leaving in a month, and there's not a thing I can do about it. I'll miss him so much. He's the only friendly face I see here every day. And I think I'm falling in love with him._

_I took a picture of him in the locker room as he was leaving. I don't think he saw me. I'm getting really good at hiding my phone when I do it. Poor Adam. I've never seen him look so sad. I just want to hold him tight and make him feel better. But I can't even bring myself to speak. I'm such a pathetic creature. What's the matter with me?_

_November 7th 2008_

_It's all around the lab. They've saved him - his friends. They gave up their paid vacation to buy him more time. He has a second chance, and I'm so happy. I hope he gets to stay forever. He's so lucky to have friends like that. The other techs are angry, but I don't care. He's better than any of them._

The guilt grew even worse, poisoning his thoughts like a malevolent spider. He had been so lost in his own situation at the time that he barely even thought about the other techs who had been dismissed. _Shame on you, Adam Ross. Turns out you're selfish, and blind as a bat. They should have let you go two years ago. What right had you to stay?_

And yet it was clear that Carey had believed in him. Page upon page, the diary was filled with tributes to his cheerfulness, his humour, his brilliance in the lab. It was so overwhelming that Adam couldn't bear to read it any longer. He could not believe that anyone saw him that way. Not Adam Ross, the stuttering, clumsy victim of his own childhood. Closing his mind to the words, he flicked to the very last entry - and gasped in horror.

The page was covered in blood.

Adam's fingers trembled as he turned the stained leaf backwards. One single passage was scrawled there in pencil. He barely even recognised the handwriting, it was so unlike Carey's usual elegant style. The words were hard to read, blotted and spoiled by the blood that had seeped through from the other side. But he didn't have to read much to know what the entry meant.

"She killed herself," he whispered, horrified to find that his suspicion had been right all along. "Because they fired her."

"No." The sister's voice was muffled. Raising herself, she turned and stared at him with haunted eyes. "She _tried_ to kill herself. Because you never took any notice of her. And neither did anybody else. Her whole world was falling apart. But I found her. _I _saved her. My little sister. My responsibility."

"I'm so sorry." He hesitated. "She... she said that her... that your dad was a bully too. When did he leave?"

"Why should I tell you that?" She hauled herself back to her feet, and the cold mask settled right back into place. "What, you think that every problem in life stems from a rotten childhood?"

"N-no... I just..." What _had_ he meant? "I was trying to understand. Like you wanted me to."

"Then understand this. It's your fault. You and those crime lab 'buddies' who love you so much. And you're all going to pay..."


	16. Chapter 16

**EASY TARGET**

**A/N: **Yet again, I've been blown away (rather like Adam and Jo) by your lovely reviews. This latter half of the story has been harder to write, as I really want to make the ending worthwhile, and it helps such a lot to read all your encouraging and constructive comments. I take everything on board and, for the person who wanted some quality Mac and Adam moments (I agree about the scene in the season finale), I shall certainly include one before the end but I also have several ideas for more stories after this one - stay tuned and your wish may come true...

**Chapter Sixteen**

To Lindsay's great relief, the blood that she had collected from the bottom of the stairs did not belong to Danny. Time to widen the search. She picked up her list of non-medical personnel and skimmed down the row of names. "Sheldon," she said, "have your results come back from the fingerprint yet?"

"I'm running it now. Fortunately, the hospital prints all their employees as a matter of procedure. If the person who left that print on the exit is an orderly or a janitor, then it shouldn't take me long to..." Sheldon's words hung in the air unfinished, as they both turned to stare at the name which flashed up on his screen.

"Roland Ferrier." Lindsay ran her finger down the list. "Here he is. Orderly, night shift." Bringing up an image of his license on the screen, Sheldon studied the man's face doubtfully.

"He doesn't look like much of a threat."

"I agree. But he's the only lead we have." Lindsay tried to restrain the hope that shone in her eyes. She knew from bitter experience how even the brightest of leads could fizzle into nothing more than a damp squib. Spotting Jo through the glass, she beckoned her in.

"Who's that?" Jo's face wrinkled as she stared at the pock-marked man. ID photos were infamous for making people look bad - Jo couldn't even glance at her own pass without wincing - but really, this one was the worst she had ever seen. Wrenching her eyes away from the suspect's truculent stare, she read through his details - and frowned.

"I know this address," she said. "But I can't think why. I've seen it somewhere recently. I'm sure of it."

"In connection with the case?" asked Lindsay, breathlessly.

"I... maybe." Jo shook her head. "Leave it with me. If I stop trying to think about it, that's when I'll remember." She turned to go, scratching absently at her cast. "Good work, you two. I think perhaps it's time we paid Mr. Ferrier a visit."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Danny had been pounding away in distress for what felt like hours. The man named Roland had been true to his word. No way was Danny getting out of this one without any help - and that help had better come soon.

Four flights of stairs, and Roland's knife had never wavered. Danny considered reaching out and grabbing his leg to overbalance him. But the fall was steep, and the danger simply too great. To be a soft landing for the ugly creep was certainly not his intention. By the time they reached the bottom, Danny's chance was over and still he had no better plan.

"So where are we goin'?" he demanded.

"Oh, you're going nowhere." Roland circled round to face him, leering obnoxiously. He held the knife out to one side and waggled it, goading Danny. "I bet you'd like to see if you can take me, wouldn't you? I kind of fancy the chance myself, since you knocked me down at the hospital. How about it, clumsy man? No one here but us. I say let's go for it."

"What - knife versus fists? Are you kiddin' me? Why would I do a stupid thing like that?"

"Because you're a stupid cop, that's why. And because it's your only chance. Miss this and you'll certainly never see your little friend again." He watched as Danny glanced around him to the front door. "No other way past me. You can be sure of that."

Sick of being taunted, Danny's hackles started to rise. The thought of Adam trapped upstairs with the crazy stalker lady only added fuel to the fire. "I've gotta do somethin'," he muttered.

"What? What was that? You better speak up," the round man sneered. "Are you a coward like your friend? Or can you fight for yourself?"

"Guess we'll find out," gasped Danny, as he launched himself wildly at his foe.

The fight was short but frantic. To Danny's surprise and horror, what Roland lacked in style, he made up for in brutal cunning. Besides, the detective had been awake for hours, and his energy reserves were seriously depleted. Whenever Danny lunged, Roland managed to slip away from him, until he was panting for breath. "I thought you'd be better than this," his opponent taunted, kicking his legs out from under him. Danny hit the floor, hard. "Don't they train you cops how to fight? Or has all that science made you soft?"

With one last, weary effort, Danny rose and leapt at the man, his arms out wide, ready to pin him down. But Roland was waiting. He twisted unexpectedly, and suddenly there was a flash of pain across Danny's ribs. The knife had found him and its bite was a deep one. He fell to the floor again, clutching his chest and gasping.

"Looks like you lose," smirked the baby-faced man. He yanked Danny up without mercy, and the knife, still bloody, returned to the detective's throat. "Time to go."

As it turned out, the trip was also a short one. Through the back door and out into a private yard, where Roland ordered Danny to pull open the cover on an old coal-cellar. "Good bye, clumsy man," he leered. "And good luck." With one swift kick, he toppled Danny through the hole and then slammed the hatch down over his head, striking the bolts home viciously. In a haze of pain and anger, Danny began to pound at the entrance with one fist, whilst blood seeped through the fingers that were clamped against his wound...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"So, what are you thinking?" Don asked Mac. They sat in the car, a couple of doors away from the address that Sheldon had given them. "This man Roland Ferrier - is he really involved?"

"My gut says he is. But I can't for the life of me see the reason." Frustration laced Mac's every word as he reached for the door handle, and his weapon.

"You think you're gonna need that?" Don's fingers rested on his own gun, and he peered out of the window. "It's a residential street, Mac. People will be setting off for work soon. Not to mention kids goin' to school. We need to be careful."

"We need to find our people," growled the detective. Just as he was about to leave the car, his mobile phone rang. Pulling it out, he glanced warily at the screen. "It's Jo," he told Don.

"Good," said Flack, with feeling. "For a moment there, I was worried it might be our stalker. Delightful though she is."

Mac shook his head and answered the phone, his eyes growing wide as he listened to Jo's frantic babble. "Slow down," he told her, switching on the speaker. "Tell me again, Jo. I don't quite follow."

"I remembered, Mac. I know why Roland Ferrier's address is so familiar." She paused, sucking in an anxious breath. "The house belongs to Carey Miller and her sister, Nicola. He's their lodger."

"Carey Miller. The lab tech that you checked out. I thought she was with her parents in Florida?" Mac's voice grew hard. "Who told you that?"

"Her sister. Nicola answered the phone when I called. Said that Carey had had enough of New York, and left two days after being fired. But I didn't just take her word for it, Mac. I called the parents too - mother and step-father, down in Jacksonville. They confirmed her story independently."

"Did you speak to Carey herself?"

"I couldn't at the time. She was sleeping and the mother really didn't want to wake her. She's been on medication for stress since it happened. I was going to call her again the next day but - well, you know why _that_ didn't happen. Truth to tell, it was blown right out of my mind." Jo paused. "Thing is, Mac, I did call them back this morning, and they were terribly distressed. Turns out the moment Carey heard that I had called, she left their house - and they haven't seen her since."

Frowning deeply, Mac tried to picture the missing lab tech. He had a vague recollection of deep brown eyes, and a quiet demeanour. "What about the sister? Have we checked her out?"

"Mac, she works at a private research lab. A _medical_ research lab. But she hasn't been at work for several weeks. A family crisis, the manager told me. Compassionate leave."

"This just keeps gettin' better and better," sighed Flack. "So what? This sister, pissed off at the crime lab because Carey got sacked, decides to take it out on - who? Adam, of all people? That doesn't make sense."

"And yet the pieces are starting to fit." Mac shook his head. "We must still be missing part of the jigsaw. Jo - see if you can track down Carey Miller. We're heading into the house right now."

There was a pause on the other end. "Okay, Mac. You be careful, you hear me. I'm getting mighty sick of hospitals."

"And what about me?" asked Don, feigning disappointment. Just as he had hoped, Jo gave a short laugh.

"Well now, I'd hate to have anything spoil that handsome face of yours," she told him. Then her voice grew serious. "Find them, Don. Find them both."

"We will," he promised. Trading glances with Mac as the detective ended the call, Don only hoped that he was telling her the truth.


	17. Chapter 17

**EASY TARGET**

**A/N:** Okay. All the pieces are in the right place. Time for some drama...

**Chapter Seventeen**

Adam's head was still throbbing but, to his amazement, ever since the storm of tears and the flood of Carey's words, a strange new sense of fearlessness had been stealing over him. Nothing seemed to matter any more beyond this moment in time. He knew that he was going to die. Only by some miracle would he avoid that now. But maybe he could show a little courage before he went. Be like Danny, or Mac, instead of a timid little mouse. _Man up,_ said a faint voice in his head... only now it sounded oddly sympathetic.

"Nicky," he said. "Your name is Nicky, right? That's what she called you in her diary."

The woman stared back coldly. Adam persisted. There had to be a way to reach her. And he almost... _almost_... felt that he could do it.

"Nicky, where is Carey now?"

"Why? So you can talk to her? Sorry, but you had your chance. Four years, and barely a word. Time's up, Adam Ross."

He shook his head. "Okay. I accept that I could have tried harder. Realised that she was unhappy and been a better friend. But don't you see that at least some of this is about Carey herself? She knew that - it's there in her diary. Believe me, I know what it's like to be nervous. To always be afraid of what people are thinking about you. It's stifling, like a hand around your throat. You have to fight it every day..."

"You're blaming _her_?" Nicola's eyes burned with fury. She raised her hand and slapped him across the cheek so hard that his head rocked back against the bedpost. Light exploded all around him and, for a moment, he couldn't speak. _Tactless, Adam. Well done. Now you've really made her mad._ Closing his eyes, he listened to the angry woman's footsteps as she stalked back and forth across the room. "You self-righteous little pig! How dare you?"

"No - how dare _you_?" cried Adam at last, pushed beyond all endurance and struggling to remain coherent. He _had_ to stand up for himself. "All the things you've done - you think that makes you a good sister? Don't tell me that Carey asked you to do this, because I know she never would."

"Oh, so now you know her? Hypocrite! You want to know the things I've done? Who was it that protected her from our father? Who raised her when he left and our mother was at work? Who gave her a home when she wanted to live in the city? I've cared for her every single day of her life." Bitterness seethed from every pore as Nicola bent close to him and leered in his face. All pretence at self-control was abandoned. She had built up such a monstrous tower of hatred against this man and everything he stood for. Now he was here at last, trapped by her own hands - and instead of cowering in fear and penitence, he was confronting her, and challenging her. It was more than she could bear. The wrath of a lifetime started to boil inside her. "You know nothing. Nothing! Do you hear me?"

"I know I'm sick to death of this!" yelled Adam. Raising his knees, he lunged out wildly with both feet. The heavy blow sent Nicola tumbling across the room - but Adam was still tied to the bedpost, and now he saw that he had made a bad mistake. He couldn't break free all by himself. And Nicola was raging. With a howl, she clambered onto the bed and straddled his helpless body. Both hands curled around his neck and her thumbs began to squeeze. Adam bucked and twisted but he could not throw her off.

"You want to know what it's like to have a hand around your throat?" she hissed. Gradually, the pressure on his neck increased and spots bloomed in his vision. A distant memory taunted him - Stella reaching out to show him just how easy it could be to strangle a man. So easy that even a thirteen year old boy could do it. _Or a crazy, vengeful woman..._

_No!_ he cried out silently, unable to utter a single word. His arms strained desperately at his bonds, but all he managed to do was shred more skin from his swollen wrists. Blood pounded in his ears and his head grew tight, like a balloon about to burst. As his body sank into the bed, the world turned hazy and spun like a kaleidoscope...

And then the miracle happened.

Nicola's hands suddenly sprang from his throat and the weight on his chest disappeared. Adam cried out in horror and relief - but still no words came. Blinking away the clouds that obscured his vision, he raised his head. Nicola sat at his feet on the bed, her head turned towards the door, a look of fear upon her face like a child caught in a guilty act, as she listened to the sound that had saved his life.

Footsteps.

Running up the stairs, far too sprightly to be Roland. Fists, banging on the door. And a grim, blessedly familiar voice that spoke the three words Adam most longed to hear.

"Police. Open up."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Roland had answered the front door with an air of casual indifference. The moment he saw him face to face, Flack knew that he detested the man. It was nothing at all to do with how he looked, but rather his unpleasant manner - and possibly his body odour. "Mr. Ferrier?" said the detective, although it wasn't really a question. "We're looking for Nicola Miller."

"She's not here."

"Then we'd really like to talk to _you_."

Scanning them up and down with an insolent eye, Roland shook his head. He was about to close the door in their faces when it slammed back hard and pinned him to the wall. "I'm sorry," said Flack. "I didn't mean to imply that we were giving you a choice." Waving his badge in the man's face, he continued. "Roland Ferrier, I'm arresting you on suspicion of aiding in the kidnapping of Adam Ross and Danny Messer. You do not have to say anything..."

From the stream of filthy language that poured out of Roland's mouth, it was clear that he had waived this particular right. Don shook his head. "Oh, this one's a real charmer," he commented to Mac, before racing at top speed through the rest of his usual spiel. Roland wasn't listening anyway. Shooting the man a look of pure disgust, Mac stepped over the threshold.

"Why don't you have a cosy chat with our friend here?" he suggested, watching Flack handcuff the man and lead him to a chair. "I'm going to take a look around. Let me know if he tells you anything interesting."

"You can't do this to me," Roland protested. "You got no right."

"Actually, we've got every right," returned Flack with a triumphant smile. "Your fingerprint at the scene of a crime saw to that."

"Which crime?" demanded his prisoner.

"Why? You take part in more than one?"

Roland shook his head and pressed his lips together stubbornly. Mac gave a short laugh and left Don to it.

Whilst the brownstone was a heavy, traditional building on the outside, it was clear that someone had taken a hammer to the inside in recent years, knocking several rooms through on the ground floor in order to create a lighter, more open-plan living space. Different zones were marked out by sets of furniture. Mac left the comfortable seating area, made far less pleasant by the scowling face of Roland Ferrier, and found himself at the bottom of the first flight of stairs. Photographs lined the walls all around him, and now he recognised the smiling, slightly wary face of Carey Miller. Beside her in many of the pictures, there was an older woman, small and dark. Mac had seen Don's attempt to capture the stalker's identity. Now there was no doubt. The woman they were looking for was Nicola Miller. Mac shook his head, bewildered, and turned away.

An open area bridged the gap between living room and dining room. Stepping across it, Mac's keen eye spotted something on the carpet that instantly drew his attention.

Blood.

Multiple drops, and fairly recent too, by the look of them. "Mr. Ferrier," he called out. "Can you explain what this is doing here?"

"I had a nosebleed," the round man muttered sulkily. "You gonna charge me with that too?"

Mac's expression clearly stated that he was not amused. "Bring him along," he snapped. "There's a blood trail here. Let's see just how far his 'nosebleed' took him."

Don hauled the man to his feet and dragged him over to where the older man was standing. He peered down at the scattered drops. "Cast off, not gravitational," he surmised, in thoughtful tones. "So - from a knife, not a nosebleed. Not unless you were spinning around like a maniac at the time."

"I'm impressed." Mac smirked. "Clearly, you've been hanging out with the science guys far too often."

Roland was less impressed. He shifted uncomfortably in Don's vice-like grip, knowing full well where this was heading. Damn that sneaking, skinny cop. He'd been nothing but trouble all along.

The three men followed the trail of blood drops through the house to the kitchen door. Mac looked at Don. He was almost afraid of what they might find outside. The policeman shrugged. "After you," he suggested, gripping Roland tighter. No way was he giving him any chance to bolt. Mac nodded, took a deep breath and opened the door.

The yard outside was small and poorly tended. At one time in the past, someone had clearly tried to make it look more homely by adding a couple of shrubs in pots - but these were sadly overgrown, to the point where their roots were creeping out of the bottom in search of more room to spread. Elsewhere, rubbish and broken garden furniture littered the concrete. A high fence ran all the way around the area. The gate was bolted and chained. There was no other way out.

"Dead end," said Mac disgustedly. He studied the ground. Nearby, the drops had massed into a pool. Whoever was wounded had been standing there for at least a couple of minutes. A trapdoor was set in the ground - probably leading to some kind of storage cellar - but this was bolted too, and covered in rust. Mac stared at it uncertainly. Then he looked at Roland. The man was looking anywhere else but at the tiny door. His eyes were narrow and his cheek twitched nervously. _Better than any signpost,_ thought Mac, certain at last. With one swift move, he bent down and grasped the bolts. There were two of them, and they were heavy - but when he looked closer, he saw that the rust had been scraped off them recently, making them easier to manoeuvre. As Don watched grimly and Ferrier turned away, Mac tore the hatch from its frame and knelt down to peer through the opening.

"Adam?" he called out. "Danny?"

"Hey, boss," said a weary voice below him. Shining his torch down into the darkness, Mac saw Danny's pale face staring back up at him. The relief in his eyes was palpable. "I'd climb up there and hug you, but I'm not at my best right now."

"Call Lindsay," said Mac to Don. "Tell her we've found her husband. And then call the paramedics." He turned back to Danny. "Is Adam down there with you?"

"No. No, he's not." Danny took his boss's offered hand and began to clamber awkwardly out of the coal-cellar. Mac stared at the dark red stain which had spread across his shirt.

"Take your time, Danny. Let's get you out of there first. Then you can tell me what happened."

Flopping out onto the concrete like a beached fish, Danny gasped in pain and then rolled over. "No time," he said tightly. "Adam's upstairs. Top floor, locked room. The stalker lady's in there with him. This man kidnapped me. But she's your biggest problem now. She's crazy, Mac. And Adam's all alone with her."


	18. Chapter 18

**EASY TARGET**

**Chapter Eighteen**

Mac's jaw tightened. Staring down at Danny, he was torn. "Go," said Flack, sensing his dilemma. "We'll be fine here. Backup's on its way."

Gratefully, Mac turned tail and sprinted up the stairs. The climb was gruelling, but he did not stop until he had reached the very top of the house, and the single locked door. Once there, he found himself at an impasse. He had no idea what the situation was on the other side. Nicola could be armed. Adam could be seriously hurt, or even...

No. Mac closed his mind to the very worst possibility. He had to keep faith. Banging on the door, he announced his presence...

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Mac," croaked Adam, finally squeezing the word out through his damaged throat. He coughed - and the cough turned into retching, which shook his whole body for several minutes.

"Shut up," said Nicola wildly. She turned back to the door. "Taylor? Is that him?"

"Y-yes," said Adam, when he had finally recovered his breath. "That's my boss. Looks like you're in trouble."

Sliding off the bed, Nicola retrieved her gun from the dressing table where she had left it. All the while, she kept her eyes focussed on the door, as if she were afraid that Mac might burst through it at any moment. "Go away," she said loudly. "We're not coming out. I've got business to finish in here."

"Your business is with me," returned Mac's even voice. "I'm the one who let Carey go. Adam has nothing to do with it."

_That's where you're wrong,_ thought Adam wearily. Out of sight, he twisted and heaved at the plastic which bound his wrists - until Nicola turned back and pointed her gun at his head. "Adam has everything to do with it," she retorted. "If I hurt him then I hurt you, and everyone else in your lab. Just like you all hurt Carey."

"Mac," squeaked Adam, "she tried to kill herself. Carey - you have to find her."

"Shut _up_!" insisted Nicola, grinding the barrel into his temple.

"I'm sorry," the lab tech mumbled. "He needed to know."

"Adam's right." Mac's ear was pressed to the other side of the door, straining to catch every word. "Nicola, let me in. I only want to talk to you."

"You mean shoot me." The woman flinched. "Not a chance. The moment you come in here, I shoot _him_."

That answered Mac's most urgent question. Nicola was definitely armed. Which meant that he had to walk softly. "Adam," he said. "How are you? Are you okay?"

_What a question._ Adam shrugged, his blue eyes riveted on Nicola's face, his temple aching from the pressure of the gun. "I'm fine, boss," he said lightly. "How are you?"

Mac choked back an involuntary laugh. _Oh, Adam._ "Better now that we found Danny," he said, wanting the little man to hear at least that one piece of good news.

Nicola frowned, but Adam's face was radiant. Roland's ugly nature had frightened him and he had tried hard not to imagine what might be going on downstairs. Finding out that his friend was safe meant everything. "I'm so glad," he croaked.

"Stop talking now," his captor begged. She knew that her control of the situation was slipping away. "If you don't, then I'll shoot you - I swear it."

"What good would that do?" sighed Adam, turning his gaze back on her. "Then I'd be dead, and you'd be alone, and my boss would just break down that door."

"And the moment he came in here, I'd shoot him too."

"What - and the twenty other cops that would follow him?" Adam tilted his head, incidentally leaning away from the gun barrel as far as he dared. "You can't shoot everyone, you know. You've only got a handful of bullets. Besides, killing people isn't the answer. I've seen what that does. It eats you up inside."

"There's nothing left inside me anyway." Nicola's voice was so quiet that, for a moment, Adam doubted what he'd heard.

_Did I do it?_ he thought, astonished. _Did I finally reach her?_

_And what should I do now?_

Trying not to let his emotion show, he decided to keep on talking - and, for once, he did not waste a single word. Each one was costly, and the price was his own life. Mac listened through the door. His instinct told him that only Adam could find a way out of this. The man's gentle voice was soothing, in spite of its roughness, and it lulled them both into an unexpected trance.

"I know what that's like too," he said slowly, his eyes never leaving Nicola's face. "To be bruised on the outside and colder than stone on the inside. To live in a world that nobody understands. Every day you put on your mask and go about your routine. People look at you, but they don't really see you. And at night, you're afraid to go to sleep - because that's when your brain tries to make sense of it all, and the nightmares return. That was our childhood."

Nicola nodded hypnotically.

"Worst of all was that dreadful day, the one you don't let your mind go back to, even in sleep. The day when it all became too much, and you nearly broke..."

"He beat my sister." The voice that spoke was tiny, like a child's. "She was three. So I stepped in between them. I was nine, and I had to look after her. Then h-he beat me too. About the head, so hard that I blacked out. I... I don't think I ever got over that. When I woke up out of a coma two weeks later, dad had left us."

Adam held her tightly in the warmth of his bright gaze. "Then you saved Carey long ago."

Outside the door, Mac felt his throat tighten. Adam's true past was something his friends could only guess at - and here he was, sharing it with a woman who had tried her best to destroy him. The tone of his voice held nothing but compassion. It was genuine, and it was meant to heal, not simply to save himself. Laying his palm on the door in silent communion, Mac kept listening, afraid to make any sound that might intrude.

"Y-your dad beat you too?" asked Nicola. "Truly?"

"Many times." Adam said it simply, and did not elaborate.

"Then I'm sorry. For mocking your past. When I said that before..."

"I know. It doesn't matter. Besides, you were right. We need to escape our past, not let it haunt our present."

Nicola fell back, twisting the gun in her hands. "My present is a nightmare," she confessed. "Carey was the only thing that held it all together. And when she fell apart..."

"Something snapped?" said Adam.

"In my head." The woman pressed one palm against her aching brow. "I feel so cold... and so angry. I feel like _him_."

Adam nodded. Because that was the worst fear of all. Turning around and finding that you had become the thing you hated.

"You're not the same as him," he told her carefully. "You're just grieving. Carey almost died, and you're afraid. You needed someone else to take it out on."

"And I chose you," she moaned. "The only other person Carey trusted. How could I do that? What sort of person _am_ I?" Screwing her eyes shut in pain, she raised the gun to her own head in one sudden, desperate movement.

"No!" cried Adam, horrified. "Please, Nicky - don't do that! I... I forgive you. You haven't hurt me. Look - look, please! I want to help!" Tears of frustration welled in his eyes as he wrestled to get free. His whole body slid off the bed, but still his arms were pinned. Pain shot up his back and tore through his skull like a sheet of fire. He buried his head for a moment and tried to recover himself. When he looked up again, the woman had gone. Full of fear, he turned - and found her beside him. Next moment, the pressure around his wrists disappeared. Released so unexpectedly, Adam toppled over. Leaving him to recover by himself, Nicola scuttled away to her corner and sat there quietly, holding her knees and staring at him with a shell-shocked expression on her face. The little gun lay on the floor beside the bed where she had dropped it. Beside it were a pair of nail scissors and two broken lengths of plastic.

"Thank you," breathed Adam, rolling onto his knees. Gingerly, he reached out to the gun and slid it across the room, out of reach, followed by the scissors - just in case. Then, like an infant, he began to crawl to the door. When he got there, he used the handle to haul himself to his feet. Somehow, it was vitally important that he should walk out of there under his own steam. Gritting his teeth, he rode out the tremors in his limbs. Strong enough at last, he took a deep breath and turned the key.


	19. Chapter 19

**EASY TARGET**

**A/N: **Of course, I could have left it there quite easily. But I feel that a little more closure is needed (and a bit of Mac-and-Adam, as I promised). So please, enjoy the final chapter. I'm only sorry it's over! I've had an amazing time writing and posting this story, and I'll be back very soon...

**Disclaimer:** I've had such fun playing with Adam and his friends. Perhaps, if I'm good, CBS will let me borrow them again...

**Chapter Nineteen**

"Hello, boss."

Leaning on the doorframe, Adam tried to disguise how utterly weary he felt. Mac observed him quietly, taking in the pallid face, the swollen wrists and the way he held himself stiffly off-balance to guard against sudden pain. There was also a ring of deepening red fingermarks around his throat that spoke eloquently of his ordeal.

_Say something,_ begged the little man with anxious eyes. Mac tilted his head. Never one to be squeamish about physical contact when the need arose, he had always respected Adam's unspoken desire to protect his personal space. Now, however, the need was overwhelming. Reaching out, Mac gripped him by both arms and then pulled him to his chest, moving one hand to cradle the man's head as it buried itself in his shoulder. A shiver ran through Adam's body, yet he never made a sound. "Well done," whispered Mac - and Adam wept. This time it was a tumbling rain instead of a turbulent storm - a healthy release of pent-up fear and distress. Knowing how often Adam bottled up his deeper emotions, hiding behind his skittish behaviour or simple, stubborn withdrawal, Mac was happy.

Looking over the top of the little man's head, he noticed Nicola, still sitting in the corner of the room as though she never wanted to move from there again. The stunned expression on her face reminded him of battle-weary soldiers, lost and broken. She had fought her war, ill-conceived as it was, and now she had been defeated - by compassion, of all things, and gentleness of spirit. Mac held Adam closer. The man's sobs were finally breaking down into random shudders. Embarrassed, he began to pull away. "I - oh! I'm so sorry," he muttered, seeing the soggy mess he had made of Mac's lapel.

"Don't be. I've had far worse from Danny."

"Danny?" Adam stepped back, startled. "Really?"

Mac nodded. "Don't tell him I said so," he warned, but there was an impish smile on his face.

Adam ducked his head, wiping his eyes with a furtive, childlike gesture. "So, what happens now?" he asked. "I mean - not to me, but to Nicola."

"Difficult to say. Some of it will hinge upon what you tell us. From what I heard through the door, you seemed to understand her."

Staring back at the woman, Adam nodded. "A little," he confessed. "Most of the time, I only seemed to make things worse when I tried to talk to her. But I think, at the end there, it was simple. She's sad, Mac. And she needs help."

_There it is,_ thought Mac, with satisfaction. _The reason that Adam and Nicola are so different._

"Then we'll see what we can do," he promised gently.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Two strong paramedics lifted Nicola and escorted her downstairs, under the watchful eye of Don Flack. Mac, however, insisted upon helping Adam out of the house himself. The little man had earned it by his actions - the chance to show that he was not a victim but a hero after all. Holding himself stiffly upright, with Mac close behind him, Adam hobbled down the steps to the street. Quite a crowd had gathered, and he flushed at being the focus of so much attention. From the back of a nearby ambulance, Danny hooted and clapped. Beside him, Lindsay looked drawn but utterly relieved. Adam turned towards them, but Mac shook his head.

"This way," he said firmly, indicating a second ambulance.

"Boss - do I have to?"

"Not if you want to keel over in front of all your friends," whispered Mac, with a wicked gleam in his eye.

Adam took the point. Deep down, he was even a little relieved. "Oh well," he sighed. "At least I'm already wearing a hospital gown."

"Ah. Humour," said Mac. "I've missed your razor-sharp wit."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"We meet again," said Sophie pertly, as she bandaged his swollen wrists.

"I... pardon?"

"Yes, you _were_ a little out of it," she nodded, resting her hand on his arm for a moment. "Can I take it things will be safer for you now?"

Adam stared past the paramedic as Nicola was led to a patrol car. She stumbled as she walked, and barely seemed aware of what was going on around her any more. A lump rose to the man's throat and he looked away. "Yes," he said. "They'll be safer."

Outside the ambulance, Don was updating Mac.

"As soon as we found Danny, that idiot Roland started to sing. He was desperate to cut a deal and save his own ass. Too bad _that_ won't be happening. Turns out he was the one who made the bomb. Says he saw it on the internet and he's always wanted to try it, for pity's sake. Nicola Miller's crusade was just the perfect opportunity."

"I must remember to thank him for that," Mac said grimly.

"He also said that Nicola had a list of codes and phone numbers in Carey's handwriting. Must have been her crib sheet from when she worked at the lab."

Mac shook his head. "Then she had open access. A non-descript woman in a lab coat, who knows all the pass codes - no wonder she was able to sneak in and out. We tell all our techs to be careful, but we can't keep tabs on everything they do."

Don thought guiltily of the scrap of paper he kept in his own inside pocket. He always _did_ have a terrible memory for numbers... Looking for a quick distraction, he poked his head into the ambulance and smiled at Adam.

"Hey, Ross. Good work in there. Listen - I've been thinkin' I should go and see a shrink. You got any openings?"

"Ha ha." Adam's blue eyes crinkled shyly, but he didn't really mind Don's ribbing. The sentiment behind it was quite clear. Words unspoken often meant far more - he knew that very well.

Mac and Don wandered away, resuming their conversation. Sophie was about to close the ambulance door when Adam caught sight of another face, hovering in the background. Just as it always had done, he realised now.

Carey Miller.

This time, however, she wasn't alone. Jo stood with her, one arm around her shoulder. They both stared at Adam hopefully, and he nodded. "Please," he said to Sophie. "Could you wait? Just for a moment?"

Already charmed by the little man's demeanour, Sophie smiled. "Five minutes," she told him. Then, thoughtfully, she hopped down out of the vehicle and headed around the side to talk to her colleague.

"Oh, Adam!" cried Jo's joyful voice. She leapt into the ambulance and hugged him, cast and all... then apologised profusely when he winced, laughing and crying all the while. Carey hung back, clearly nervous. But this time, Adam wasn't going to let her get away.

"Hello again," he said kindly, around the tangle of Jo's arms. If being a hero meant lots of hugs, he was actually beginning to enjoy it.

Jo leant back. "Carey - oh dear. That was thoughtless of me. I just couldn't help myself."

"It's okay. I understand." Carey gave a tiny smile. Since turning up at the crime lab half an hour ago, distraught and almost incoherent, she had been taken under Jo's protective wing, and already she seemed stronger. _It's like some kind of magic spell,_ thought Adam. _I wish I had her gift. _He couldn't help wondering what Carey's life at the lab would have been like if Jo had come along sooner.

Sensing that the two of them wanted to be alone, Jo laid her arm on Adam's chest and whispered in his ear a fervent promise to visit him later. Then she slipped out of the ambulance. Suddenly nervous, Adam ducked his head.

"I... I'm sorry," he said to Carey. "I read your diary."

"Nicola gave it to you," she guessed.

He nodded, unable to look her in the eye. Carey sighed. "Well then," she offered. "I'm sorry that I've been watching you all these years. You must think I'm so creepy."

Adam looked up at last, his blue eyes startled. "No - no, I don't. I... I guess I know why. And I wish that I had been a better friend to you."

"You're apologising to me? After all my sister put you through?"

"That wasn't your fault." Adam held out a hand. Carey winced at first to see his wrist, but then she mirrored his gesture - and he saw that her own wrist was bandaged too, along with its twin. Touching the tips of her fingers, Adam stroked them gently. "Your sister was sad. And so were you. I understand that."

"I'm going to look after her now." There was a positive note in Carey's voice that he had never heard before. A new sense of purpose that shone in her quiet face. "Whatever happens to her. I'll be there for her, like she was there for me."

"I'm glad," said Adam. "That's just how families should be."

Carey pulled her hand away again and stepped back slightly.

"You're a lovely man," she told him. "Be happy, Adam Ross."

Then she hopped out of the ambulance, and was gone.

Adam stared after her in confusion. A new and unexpected feeling stirred within his breast - the sense of losing something precious that he never even realised was his.

**The End.**


End file.
